


Everything I Cannot See

by elm1939



Category: Gone With the Wind, Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 244,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elm1939/pseuds/elm1939
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale begins with Scarlett Butler's accident - the fall down the stairs at her Peachtree Street mansion...but does the home really belong to her anymore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was ultimately inspired by a discussion I attended about the strength and gumption of the character, Scarlett O'Hara. I wanted to write a story focusing on the way she deals with adversity on multiple levels and how she pulls through better than most. I must give fair warning that Rhett Butler is not featured for many chapters, but he will show up eventually and I know it will be worth it to you so I hope you keep reading and enjoy Scarlett's adventures for the time being :) 
> 
> The story was inspired by the resilience of Scarlett O'Hara, but could never have gone in this direction without the brilliance of an author here by the name of gypsemuse. Her classic work made me realize this was possible.
> 
> The story is a little outside of the box, but I see that's quite common here :) I'm also posting the story on a yahoo group (https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/gwtwfanfic_archive/info) and will be a little behind that schedule here.
> 
> * First paragraph is taken from Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell*

## Part One

### Chapter 1

Scarlett would claw him. Nothing but the sight of blood upon Rhett’s dark face would ease this pain in her heart. She lunged for him, swift as a cat, but with a light startled movement, he sidestepped, throwing up his arm to ward her off. She was standing on the edge of the freshly waxed top step, and as her arm with the whole weight of her body behind it, struck his out-thrust arm, she lost her balance. She made a wild clutch for the newel post and missed it. She went down the stairs backwards, feeling a sickening dart of pain in her ribs as she landed. And, too dazed to catch herself, she rolled over and over to the bottom of the flight.

Struggling for her breath, which had been knocked from her lungs, Scarlett was in such shock she did not immediately notice the critical injury to her body. The drumming sound of blood surging through her veins in a heavily pulsing heartbeat was overpowering as she lay motionless on her side, her right temple resting against the soft carpet. With determined effort, Scarlett attempted to piece together the happenings of the previous moments and ignore the awful pounding in her head. What had just happened? Surely, this situation was not real. It couldn’t be. Just moments ago she had been holding her dearest daughter, Bonnie, in her arms. She had been nervously anticipating a reunion with her husband and had been anxious to inform him of the happy news of her pregnancy. The conversation certainly had not gone as planned, and had turned downright ugly, but how could this be the result? How could it have gone this wrong?   

Her head began to sway with the slightest of movement as she took shallow breaths and exhaled small puffs of air as a result of an undeniable broken rib, which was creating a sharp stabbing sensation. Perhaps if she shifted her weight, the pain would subside. Using the strength of her left arm, she rolled herself over onto her back, groaning in anguish. Dragging her right hand above her waist, Scarlett made a weak, scratching motion over the fracture with her fingers as she sucked in air through her clenched teeth. An ache pervaded her head and Scarlett lay immobile with the thick carpet cushioning her petite figure. No, she was not going to be able to just rise up and get on with her day. Helplessness, one of the things Scarlett dreaded most, overtook her.

It was so quiet in the hall, Scarlett nervously wondered if she had been left all alone. Why wasn’t Rhett coming to her rescue? He had been standing right next to her; he had watched her fall, hadn’t he?

“I couldn’t have imagined everything,” she thought as she gently pivoted her head toward the staircase. Straining her eyes, she tried to make out the landing. No one was there! Had Rhett walked away? Did he not care about what happened to her at all? That thought almost hurt Scarlett more than his unkind remarks of a few moments before; to know that he disliked her so much as to not care if she died right there, dreadfully alone, on the floor of their home. Did he leave her there to suffer, punishment for her regrettable words? No, cruelty at the hands of Rhett Butler did not surprise her today–not after the awful things he had said to her in response to her news.  

“Please… Please, Rhett,” Scarlett called in a dampened whisper directed to the landing, her pale green eyes glowing with fear and desperation. “I need help,” she murmured to herself, knowing if she had to lift herself up on her own, it would be torture.

Turning her head back toward the front door, she noted that the luggage the cab driver had carried in was no longer there. Squinting her eyes, Scarlett wondered where it had gone. She hadn’t observed Pork, or any other servants, come to transport the bags and trunk upstairs, but maybe he had come through just before she fell and was nearby. And Prissy must have arrived home with Rhett and Bonnie, as well. Where was she?

“Probably at the servants’ house...” Scarlett speculated tiredly.

Strangely, she thought she heard several voices coming from the direction of the dining room. If she was going to capture anyone’s attention she would have to make a sacrifice and experience some intensified discomfort. Drawing in a deep, agonizing breath, she forced her voice out with all she could give.

“Please!”

*              *              *

“Oh my Lord!” exclaimed a gray-haired woman, who had come from the dining room. Crouching down next to Scarlett, she touched then lightly patted Scarlett’s right cheek with her plump hand. “Can you wake up for me, hon?” she urgently requested.

Scarlett’s eyes popped open immediately upon hearing this unfamiliar voice. Looking up, she was uncertain of her vision as she was seeing, in her house, a woman she’d never once laid eyes upon. This woman’s attire was very odd. It looked like she may have been wearing an undersized suit coat and men’s trousers. Her hair was short, loosely hanging just below her ears, and nothing like Scarlett had ever seen on an ordinary woman before. However, her voice did have the distinctive inflection of someone from the coast of Georgia, not completely alien to Scarlett.

“Peggy, what is it? What’s happened?” demanded a man’s voice from the rear of the entrance hall.

“There’s a woman lying here. She was unconscious,” Peggy answered, looking beyond the staircase.

Scarlett instantly heard footsteps and felt another presence kneeling beside her, and thought she heard the sound of several more pairs of feet moving in her direction. She drew her attention away from this woman named Peggy and glanced to her right, observing a lean man with sandy, reddish hair staring back at her with a stunned expression. Soon, there was a half-circle of observers around her–a towering man with a gray beard at her head, a young blonde-haired woman standing near her outstretched legs, and at her feet, another woman, sporting glossy black hair. All but the dark-haired woman were wearing trousers, and the skirt she was wearing only came to her knees, exposing her naked legs for all to see.

“Oh, my God!” the blonde woman expressed, bringing her hand to her mouth. “She looks just like her!”

Fear and uneasiness tightened Scarlett’s chest. Her eyes grew wide and frantic.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Scarlett demanded, bracing her hands and elbows to her sides in order to push herself up, instinctively ready to flee no matter the physical cost. “I don’t know you.”

“Whoa, try not to move. You may have a concussion,” requested the first man to arrive by Scarlett’s side, as he lightly pressed on her shoulder with his hand. “We work here,” he said, answering Scarlett’s questions. “My name is Dylan and you have no reason to be afraid. Please, tell us what happened. We only want to help you,” he reassured with kindness.

“Work here?” repeated Scarlett to herself, struggling with her memory.

Taking the responsibility of running her own household very seriously, Scarlett knew she had not hired anyone new, let alone five people. Could her head injury have been so severe that her mind was playing tricks on her?

“I don’t understand,” she stated, focusing her dazed eyes on the shimmering crystals of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling above her.

“Sadie, call nine-one-one,” Dylan ordered, looking to the dark-haired woman at Scarlett’s feet.

As Scarlett watched Sadie tap her thumb on a rectangular object, Dylan returned his attention to her.

“Please, there will be plenty of time for explaining later. Right now, we’re going to get you help, but I need you to help us, darlin’. Your breathing sounds very difficult,” he said with sympathy.

Dylan’s voice gave comfort to Scarlett, as she noted a slight similarity to her father’s Irish brogue.

“I think it’s advised that we assess your immediate injuries and determine how you came by them in order to help you as much as we can,” Dylan continued, looking around to the others for corroboration.

After a moment, Scarlett responded, “The stairs,” closing her eyes and catching a mention of the words _Irish_ and _Peachtree Street_ as Sadie seemingly had a one-sided conversation with some unseen person.

“You took a spill down the stairs?” Dylan asked for clarification. “The entire flight?” he added, regarding the long distance to the landing.

“Yes,” Scarlett breathed out.

“God,” Dylan said in amazement, “how horrible…how similar,” he quietly added to himself.

“Is there something we can do to make you more comfortable? Where are you hurting?” Peggy asked.

Scarlett opened her steadily calming eyes in the direction of Peggy, thankful that these strangers were honestly trying to help her. She reached for her rib. This was the most immediate pain she had felt.

“Here,” she directed to the observers. “My head. My back,” she slowly added, noting only slight aches.

Scarlett’s anxiety diminished, thinking herself lucky for having only a few notable bruises, which would eventually heal. Now she was able to focus more deliberately and take inventory of her general physical state. It led her to notice something new. This was an odd feeling; one she had not anticipated. The small gathering noted a sudden, alarmed expression on Scarlett’s face and Peggy surely felt Scarlett’s grasp grow tight as she held onto her hand.

“No!” Scarlett exhaled with disbelief. “Oh, no!”

“What is it?” the bearded man asked the others as if they knew what had startled this woman lying on the floor.

Scarlett’s breath became quicker, more agitated, as she reached toward her pelvis, pressing against the finely stitched paisley fabric of her dressing gown. Something wasn’t right.

Staring up into Peggy’s concerned eyes, Scarlett pleaded, “You must help me. I–I think it’s my baby! Please, find Dr. Meade!”

Chills began to run throughout Scarlett’s body as panic began to overwhelm her. Waves of guilt and anguish rolled through her mind. Had this horrible, avoidable, accident caused her to hurt her baby–the first one she had ever wanted? She most certainly was being punished for the lie she had just told Rhett about their baby. Of course she had wanted it. How could she have said otherwise, no matter how cruelly Rhett had replied? Why did he always drive her to say things she didn’t mean! And now this was the dreadful consequence.

“Oh, God, she’s pregnant,” Peggy stated, looking to the men on her left. “The ambulance is on its way, honey,” Peggy reassured, as she brushed stray hairs from Scarlett’s sweat-beaded forehead. “Help’s on the way. We’re going to get you to a doctor. Calm down. Try to take slow, deep breaths, if you can. It’ll help you and your baby if you can just stay calm.”

“Where’s Rhett?” Scarlett asked, opening her eyes, looking to Dylan with shaky desperation. “Where is he?” Maybe she could still fix this if she just told him the truth now. Maybe God would take mercy on her if she just voiced what her heart had desired.

“Please, find him. He was there only a moment ago,” she weakly informed Peggy, slightly glancing to the top of the stairs.

Or maybe, if nothing else, Scarlett needed Rhett’s strength. He had comforted her in the past, even at times when he’d evidently been angry with her. All was forgiven if he would just come and take care of her and give her courage. The thought of facing this distress alone, without Rhett or Mammy or even Melanie, was unimaginable. These unfamiliar people here didn’t know her or what she needed. Her thoughts were now swimming dizzyingly through her head.

“I want Rhett,” she demanded, tears streaming from her eyes as she closed them. She whispered his name once more before losing consciousness.  

“Did she just say what I think she said?” asked the tall man standing above Scarlett, staring at the others with a look of incredulity.

“What did she say, James?” Sadie impatiently demanded.

“She asked for someone named _Rhett_ ,” Dylan replied, having heard Scarlett’s request most clearly. “You don’t think she means…?”

“It’s a striking resemblance!” expressed the blonde woman, eyes wide, transfixed on Scarlett’s face. She knelt down to arrange the material of Scarlett’s dressing gown and cover Scarlett’s underclothes around her legs.

“What’s happening here?” Sadie asked, as if she were questioning her own sanity. Presented with a stunned silence, she took a deep breath and continued, “This is unbelievable! I understand playing dress-up, but… Why is this woman doing this−reenacting this horrible event?” she asked with disgust. “How does she even know about it?” Sadie questioned, directing the palm of her hand in Scarlett’s direction. “Look at the quality of that fabric. It must be from a professional costume shop,” she speculated, referring to Scarlett’s dressing gown. “And that ring–” Sadie began, noting the diamond and emerald ring on Scarlett’s right hand, which rested on her stomach, “it’s a very authentic copy. Whoever she is, she knows a lot about Scarlett Butler’s life.”

“All right, hush,” Peggy ordered. “We all have a right to be skeptical, but now is not the time for this. She’s clearly hurt and in a terrible situation. This isn’t some joke she’s playing on us. This is not a performance!” she stated with authority.

“Did you hear any sound while we were in the meeting? I wasn’t far from the door either, and I didn’t hear anything that sounded like a woman falling down a flight of stairs. I’m sure it’s not a silent event,” Sadie reasoned. “And, by the way, how did she get into the building?”

“We’ll cover all the details later,” Dylan replied with command. “Right now, let’s focus on helping this woman.” Turning his attention back to Scarlett, he attempted to coax her back to consciousness by shaking her shoulders very gently. “It’d be good if you could wake up for us, Miss. We’d like to know your name. Wake up, Miss,” Dylan repeated several times. “Who are you?” he finally asked with true perplexity.

Scarlett could hear an echoing voice as if it were bouncing off the walls of a grand marble hall. What was he saying? “Miss? Missy?” Was she dreaming? Was she dead? The muted voice became sharper as she fought to bring herself back from the darkness. Oh, but she was so tired–so very tired. It would be much easier to let herself go. Then, she wouldn’t notice the pain or remember that there was something frighteningly wrong with her. But that voice…that voice was so familiar. She’d forgotten how much she missed it.

“Pa?” she asked expectantly, opening her eyes in Dylan’s direction. If he was her father, he was now much younger and much taller in stature, not sharing the silvery-white hair and stocky frame of the Gerald O’Hara she knew. However, the man’s blue eyes were comfortingly similar.

“There you are?” he responded, smiling. “I am certainly not your Pa, but we would like you to keep those pretty, green eyes open for us until the ambulance comes. Miss, may I ask your name?”

“Oh…you’re…you’re…” Scarlett struggled drowsily.

“Dylan,” the man assisted.

“Yes, Dylan,” Scarlett replied, straining to honor his request while her eyelids had seemingly turned to lead. “I remember now,” she added, pressing both her hands to her stomach.

“May we have your name?” Dylan kindly reminded.

“Sc…Scarlett,” she answered on exhale, shifting in and out of consciousness.

At Scarlett’s reply, Sadie made a brusque, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head in a manner that expressed both incredulity and disgust, looking to the others for agreement with her suspicions now. But any continuation of her reaction was halted by a stern look from Peggy. Sadie glanced away from Peggy’s intense stare and silently held up her hands in front of her chest in surrender. A slight blush of embarrassment invaded her cheeks over her contrary reaction to this serious situation. She retreated through the spacious hall and the vestibule to the front door, opening it to wait for the ambulance.

“You’ll have to excuse Sadie. She’s misplaced her sensitivity today,” Dylan apologized with a warm smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Scarlett,” he replied with a natural charm. “Can we get you−”

“I’m Jennifer,” the blonde-haired woman interjected as she lightly rested her right hand on top of Scarlett’s. Smiling as if she had just discovered the Holy Grail, she asked, “Could you tell me, is your name _Scarlett Butler_?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Scarlett answered weakly.

The four observers bordering Scarlett looked to each other with bewilderment, shaking their heads, wondering what really was transpiring here. They all turned their attention to Sadie, who had been leaning against the doorjamb watching the traffic on Peachtree Street, and were thankful she hadn’t heard this last comment.

Dylan looked back down on Scarlett’s ghostly face, searching the depths of her eyes for any hint of malice or deception.

“Tell me, what is the current year, Scarlett?”

“Why, it’s…it’s eighteen seventy-one,” she replied after some thought, mirroring Dylan’s inquisitive expression.

Scarlett wondered why he would ask such a question at a time like this. She noted an alteration in the faces’ of her company as she answered this query. Was it shock…pity…fear? They looked as if they thought she had lost her mind. No, she was correct. Scarlett was certain of this.

“Yes, it’s July eighteen…of seventy-one,” she repeated. “Tuesday. Melly insisted that I call on Mrs. Merriwether with her this afternoon,” Scarlett recalled with weak irritation before being distracted by penetrating pain, which caused her to grimace. A dim nausea settled in and all Scarlett could do to control it was to shut the world out and focus on her breath.

“Can you feel her?” Dylan questioned, focusing on Jennifer.

“Yes, as if I were touching my own hand,” she replied as she continued her attempt to comfort Scarlett.

“Peggy?” asked Dylan.

“Her face was warm to the touch,” Peggy stated.

“She’s real,” said Jennifer with the nod of her head.

“Not an apparition,” Dylan stated, voicing his immediate thought. “I felt her, too.”

Just then, the crescendo of a siren burst into the room, and almost immediately after, vehicle doors slammed in front of the house. Sadie called to the medical technicians, waving them up to the entry with urgency.

“Oh, thank God!” Peggy exclaimed when she witnessed the EMTs appear through the doorway. “Just rest easy, Miss Scarlett,” she said with a reassuring smile as she stroked Scarlett’s colorless cheek with the back of her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

## Part One

### Chapter 2

Chaos and confusion swiftly occupied Scarlett’s world, and she had been powerless to take control of the situation. Scarlett had never personally experienced this hasty treatment before, but now remembered how it had been for all those wounded soldiers she’d attended to during the war. There was no time to waste in saving a life. After the recent battle Scarlett had fought–and lost–she knew this time it was her life in peril.

Initially, there had been lots of quick movements about her, as three men–two in matching uniforms–surrounded her. They asked many probing questions, forcing her to remain conscious, and examined her vitals, seizing her wrist and arm and placing the cold metal head of a stethoscope to her skin. In no time, Scarlett found herself lifted onto a stretcher, and as the men escorted her from the hall, there was a mention of the name _Emory_ to her initial rescuers; but she had never heard of such a hospital.

The blinding sunshine had hindered her vision as she was carried out of her cool home into the imposing July heat, but even though she was unable to capture a solid image of her surroundings, she knew something was different. Nothing had seemed right since she had fallen. The people, sounds, smells, and even the atmosphere of her home, felt foreign to her. On top of all of this, it was extremely distressing to be shoved into a metal box-like structure and have its booming doors seal her away from the light of the outdoors. The small, oddly cool space, the stranger beside her, and the screeching sound that led them on their way caused Scarlett’s heart to hammer as it had when she first spotted the Yankee straggler at Tara all those years ago. Was she in danger? The speed and swaying were felt throughout her entire body, leaving Scarlett wondering if she really were on a swift train. All she wanted to do was escape, free herself of this situation, and return back to something that was familiar.

Nothing was recognizable as the nightmare continued. The building she was transported into was abnormally bright with light emanating from all directions. The women and men who attended to Scarlett were either in odd, colorful trousers and smocks or plain white coats; and they all had peculiar gloves on their hands of a texture she had never felt before. Questions about her pregnancy, medications, and allergies were lobbed at her as she drifted in and out of consciousness. What Scarlett could only have described as machinery beeped and flashed around her as she was poked and prodded by the nurses or commanding doctors. As the commotion grew less intense, a woman inserted an almost invisible needle into the back of Scarlett’s hand, attaching some sort of tube to it and securing it with a sticky paper. Scarlett’s eyes followed the tube up to a clear bag hanging above and to the left of her, as she lay flat in the bed.

The scene instantly calmed after this treatment, and Scarlett was left in the narrow rectangular room with just two women. One had bronze skin, reminiscent of Dilcey’s; her straight black hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. The other woman, her pale face flushed from all the activity, had positioned her tall figure next to the bed and gripped the side rail. Scarlett wondered if both these women were nurses, and was a little frustrated that she had yet to be seen by a doctor. The woman with short, grayish-blonde hair noted Scarlett’s puzzled eyes, which were focused on the liquid that was beginning to flow through her veins.

“That’s an antibiotic to curb infection,” she informed Scarlett, drawing her patient’s attention back in her direction. “I’m Dr. Stevens. I’m the OB GYN on call today. This is Michelle,” she said, indicating the nurse in fuchsia scrubs.

Antibiotic? OB GYN? Why, even the vocabulary was strange in this mystifying world.

“What has happened?” Scarlett asked confusedly. “I don’t understand where I am? Where’s Dr. Meade?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with a Dr. Meade. Is that your prenatal doctor?” Dr. Stevens asked.

“Yes, he’s my doctor,” Scarlett replied with agitation, clutching her stomach as it continued to cramp with incomparable pain.

“You’re at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. We were informed that you had a traumatic fall with a likely head injury. And you told the people that discovered you that your name is Scarlett Butler. Is that correct?” the doctor questioned.

“Yes,” Scarlett answered, breathing with a steady intensity.

“You’re married?” Dr. Stevens probed. Scarlett nodded delicately. “Is there a way we can reach your husband and let him know what has happened? Can you provide a phone number?” Scarlett was silent, unable to respond, uncertain of the doctor’s last question. “We’d like to get ahold of him for you. Do you have any other emergency contacts you’d like us to try? You had no identification on you.”

“I–I–No. I don’t know where Rhett is,” Scarlett finally responded, clearly the only answer she would be able to give.

“Well, we’ll try to locate him for you. It’s _Rhett_ Butler, then?” the doctor asked for clarification as she held a pen to a small pad of paper. Scarlett again nodded. “I’ll also try to find contact information for your doctor, but we do need to make some decisions very soon,” Dr. Stevens stated as she finished scribbling her note. “There’s a possibility of internal injury in addition to your rib and the bruises we can see on the surface. We’ll need to further assess those as soon as possible, but we’re very concerned about your high fever and the complications with your pregnancy. This is why I was called to your case. You’ve had a very traumatic injury to your body. You are bleeding moderately, and in my examination, I found that your cervix has dilated. There really isn’t a way to reverse this…” Dr. Stevens began, cutting herself off before giving a final diagnosis. “I have ordered an ultrasound and we’ve taken a blood sample. Unfortunately, the odds aren’t very favorable,” Dr. Stevens explained steadily and honestly.

For all the words and phrases in the doctor’s assessment that perplexed Scarlett, there was one that she understood very clearly. The odds were not favorable. She instinctively pressed her hands to her stomach as if her touch could change the outcome to _favorable_.

“Can’t you do something?” Scarlett requested, trying to remain calm.

“There really is nothing we can do at this stage,” Dr. Stevens answered sensitively.

“So have…have I lost it?” Scarlett asked, her voice shaking as she fought to regulate her breath. As she asked this, a young, red-haired woman entered the room, rolling in another piece of machinery, crowding the space even more.

“Scarlett, this is Emma. She’s an ultrasound technician,” Dr. Stevens said in introduction. Returning to Scarlett’s question, Dr. Stevens continued, “Let’s not conclude anything until we have the results of this ultrasound. I don’t want to give you false hope, but we will have a better indication with more evidence. Just lie still and try to remain calm,” she instructed.

Scarlett watched as Emma placed the end of what she thought was a thin, smooth rope right into the wall. There was a flat, rectangular-shaped object on the top of the cart and below was another oddly-shaped surface with many raised square and round buttons on it. As Scarlett was studying the machine, Michelle placed a paper-like covering over Scarlett’s lower half and pulled up the gown above her stomach.

“What are you doing?” Scarlett snapped, noticing her new apparel for the first time: an extremely short, thin gown that had been hastily tied in the back. She looked down to the hand plucked by the needle, then the other, and noted her rings were gone. “Where did you take my clothing? Where are my rings?” she asked irately toward the nurse.

“Calm down, Mrs. Butler. We’ve safely secured your belongings in a locker and have a safe for patient jewelry. You’ll get them back when you leave,” Michelle perfunctorily responded as if she were used to repeating this information daily. “I’m preparing you for the ultrasound,” she added, replying to Scarlett’s unease of her exposed stomach.

“Have you had an ultrasound before?” Dr. Stevens asked Scarlett, as Emma tapped and clicked on the machine with the tips of her fingers.

“No,” Scarlett answered tentatively. “What are you going to do?” she asked nervously as Emma squeezed a warm substance from a bottle onto her stomach.

“This is a transducer,” Emma answered, holding a smooth, white object up for Scarlett to see. “It produces sound waves. I’m going to run this across your stomach and we’ll actually be able to see into your womb by capturing the echo and determine what’s happening. You should feel no additional pain from this,” Emma explained before placing the object on Scarlett’s stomach.

“See into my womb?” Scarlett repeated to herself, perplexed. Was she now in a world of magic where one could actually see clear through another person’s skin without making an incision? Scarlett watched Emma as she worked, noting that both she and Dr. Stevens were focusing on the rectangular object at the top of the cart, which was turned away from her own line of vision. “That must be the picture of my insides,” Scarlett deduced, experiencing minor pain relief from the undulating pressure of the transducer gliding over her stomach. Realizing the madness of this bizarre situation, she was almost on the verge of inappropriate laughter, unable to control her fever and hormone-affected emotions.

Scarlett wondered again how she had come to such a foreign place. Part of her wanted to scream from fear, but she remained quiet and still because she somehow sensed that she was getting the best treatment possible at this moment. Yet, this had to be some prolonged nightmare, more real than she’d ever experienced before. Or maybe she had died and now the terror of the unknown continued on even in death. It was the only way to explain how different this place was compared to the Atlanta she knew and loved. Scarlett had been correct, despite Rhett’s theories about there being nothing after death, she had found herself in hell after all: only it was not the fire and brimstone of her imagination, which she would have almost welcomed over this, for at least she would have understood it.

As Scarlett studied the doctor and technician’s expressions, she could see how concentrated and still they were, as if straining to hear some expected sound.

“Are you absolutely certain you’re thirteen weeks into your pregnancy, Scarlett?” Dr. Stevens questioned again. Scarlett warily nodded in confirmation. Emma turned to Dr. Stevens and the doctor nodded, signaling an end to the exam. The technician placed the transducer back on the cart. Emma’s fingers produced a few more clicking sounds on the machinery before she stepped away from the bed and detached the connection from the wall. While Michelle cleaned off Scarlett’s stomach and pulled down the gown, Scarlett’s nervous eyes focused on Dr. Stevens as she spoke quietly with Emma. A light, rough blanket was slid up to Scarlett’s waist as Emma exited the tight space with the cart in tow.

The silence in the room was unbearable.

“What is it? What did you discover? Is my baby all right?” Scarlett asked, panicked. If she were honest with herself, this question would have been unnecessary. Scarlett already knew what the doctor’s answer would be. Dr. Stevens stepped to Scarlett’s right, resting her hands on the rail before beginning to speak.

“I’m sorry, Scarlett. All signs point to a miscarriage. There’s no evidence of a fetal heartbeat. We should definitely be observing this at thirteen weeks. I’m certain the blood tests will confirm that your hormones are not at expected levels. It was most likely the trauma on your body that caused this to occur. I’m very sorry.”

Scarlett was frozen in disbelief. The word _miscarriage_ ran through her mind over and over, hearing it in Rhett’s own derisive voice. Oh, she hated him for saying what he had before her accident: _Cheer up, maybe you’ll have a miscarriage_. How could he have joked about something as painful as this? He caused this to happen! It was his fault! She wondered if he would he have felt as dreadful as she did now if he knew his baby was dead? She wanted him to share in this punishing agony that made her stomach feel as if she were plummeting down a deep, dark fissure…but she reasoned, even if he did know, he probably wouldn’t have cared. Nothing in life was very serious to her husband: nothing but his only child, Bonnie.

The women in the room could easily read the fury in Scarlett’s clenched face: her thick black eyebrows slanting together, her jaw tight. She fought to sustain her anger, because if that subsided, intense sadness would be all that remained. She tried to focus on Rhett’s cruelty, but her hopes and dreams for this newest child crept in and overtook her mind, and she wondered regrettably, “Why couldn’t I have just ignored him and walked away? Then, none of this would have happened…Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry.” Scarlett lovingly caressed her stomach for the last time. “Oh, it all went so wrong!”

Scarlett needed to turn her face away from her observers; there was nowhere to escape. She didn’t want them to see her cry. She never really wanted anyone to see her cry unless it was to gain a favor she was unable to get in any other way. What good would crying do for her now? How would that bring life back to her baby? Her strength was spent and the knowledge of her part in this tragedy caused the tears to flow freely. Out of shattered expectations and acute desolation, she had ended the beating of her own baby’s heart. Scarlett rolled to her left side, her body shaking as she choked out sobs. She buried her face in the cushion, feeling the heavy ache of guilt and remorse on her own heart.

*              *              *

Directing her red, swollen eyes to the doorway, Scarlett waited in anticipation of the sight of a familiar face. She was desperate for answers and couldn’t bring herself to question the doctor or nurse tending her. It felt as if she’d been sitting alone in this dull room for hours, and Scarlett hated to be alone with her thoughts. Impatience was beginning to creep in as the minutes passed without her promised visitor, and she began to nervously tap her thin fingers over the hot compress now providing her some pain relief. Then, she caught sight of him.

“The nurse said you were here,” Scarlett said gratefully.

“Are you up for some company?”

“Yes. Please,” Scarlett answered relieved, exhaustion in her voice. 

“I suppose you remember me, or you wouldn’t have granted my request for a visit,” said the man, placing himself in a folding chair next to the hospital bed where Scarlett was now sitting with her head and chest raised about forty-five degrees.

“Yes, you’re Dylan,” Scarlett answered, surprised that she could form a smile on her lips after what had happened today. It was the first time she was able to have a good look at this man who had come to her aid. She noticed the stubble that formed his subtle mustache and beard, a truer red than the sandy shade of his wavy hair. His jaw and brow showed strength, and what he lacked in breadth, he made up for in height.

“Yes, Dylan Connolly–and not your father,” he stated with a quiet smile.

“No,” Scarlett replied, her pale, but bruised cheeks turning faintly pink. “Did I really call you _Pa_?” she asked in remembrance. As he nodded, Scarlett continued, “Well, earlier, your voice did remind me of my father; now I can tell it’s not the same, but similar. Are you from Ireland, too?”

“Yes, but I’ve lived in America for seventeen years. You mean to tell me I haven’t lost _me_ accent yet? My family back in Ireland thinks so,” Dylan joked. “I’m from Galway. Where is it your father is from?”

“He’s from County Meath.”

“Ah, County Meath. Your father’s from the east, whereas I was raised in the wild and windy west of the island,” Dylan colorfully explained.

“Oh,” Scarlett answered, attempting to disguise another wave of deep discomfort. She had to look away from Dylan’s gaze and bit her lip, subtly adding pressure to the compress on her stomach. She could feel the sweat of her fever beading on her forehead.

“Are you in pain? Should I find a doctor?” Dylan asked with urgent concern.

“No,” Scarlett weakly replied, shaking her head. “No,” she repeated with a whisper, tears returning to her eyes as she locked them shut. How horrible it was to have this constant reminder of what had happened to her. If only it would just end! Dr. Stevens’ pending intervention could not come soon enough for Scarlett.

“No, it doesn’t matter now,” she answered Dylan. “My baby is dead,” Scarlett revealed bitterly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Dylan offered, leaning forward in his chair. After a long pause, he asked, “Is there anything I can do? Would it help to talk about it?” he asked, gently rubbing his hand on her left shoulder.

Scarlett shook her head. No, she didn’t want to talk about it. Once this was over, Scarlett never wanted to think of this experience or loss again. She would pack it away in a deep, dark corner of her mind where she would never be able to access it again.

“Have you found Rhett…or anyone?” Scarlett asked desperately, returning her attention to Dylan’s steady eyes.

“You’re speaking of Rhett Butler?” Dylan questioned, pulling a tissue from a slim cardboard box next to the bed and handing it to Scarlett to dry her soaked cheeks.

“Yes, my husband,” Scarlett answered, bringing the soft tissue to her face. “He should know,” she stated, brushing her loose, tangled black hair behind her ears.

“Yes, of course your husband needs to be here,” Dylan said with a nod, leaning back in his chair. “He needs to know what has happened. I can imagine his worry. But, we have not found anyone related to you since your arrival. There was no one else in the house besides yourself.”

“No one? Not even one servant?” Scarlett thought skeptically. Where could they all have gone? Even her distracting children never seemed to be out of the house all at once. Scarlett practically celebrated those moments when she could do her bookkeeping in peace. A sense of abandonment permeated her consciousness. Did Rhett take everyone–not just Bonnie–away from her this time, never waiting to discover the fate of his own wife?

“I want you to know I’m here out of genuine concern,” Dylan continued as Scarlett stared distantly into the room, clearly not focusing on one particular object. “You had a terrible accident and we are worried about your welfare. But I’m also here because we all want to know your true identity.”

“What do you mean?” Scarlett asked solemnly, dabbing her eyes.

“You said the year was eighteen seventy-one. You have just had an accident that happened in a similar, if not identical manner to Scarlett Butler in eighteen seventy-one. But it is now _two thousand eleven_ and there’s no way, if you are who you say you are, that you would be alive today,” Dylan explained logically. “That’s why we want to know who you really are, how you got into the building this morning, and why you were there.”

Scarlett sat silently for several moments, trying to take all this in while still fighting her body’s aches. Two thousand eleven: he must be joking. Although, the people surrounding her this morning certainly looked at her strangely when she’d stated the year. She turned her attention to the windowless room, gazing from ceiling to floor, remembering how nothing seemed familiar to her. The room was lit not with gaslight but from a strange panel above her head. Machinery hummed magically beside her bed and was positioned throughout the small room. Scarlett recalled the strange and rapid way she had arrived at this hospital: a hospital she was certain did not exist in Atlanta. Stranger still was the assertion that there was not a Dr. Meade practicing medicine in Atlanta.

Scarlett turned her head to study Dylan Connolly. He was wearing an average gray suit, with an oddly long, narrow cravat, and no waistcoat: attire similar to what she was accustomed to seeing men wear, but with several minor, subtle changes she did not recognize. There was something about his hair, wild and unstructured, but not overly long. Staring at Dylan, unable to speak, he surely could read the extreme bewilderment in her expression.

“Do you still think it’s eighteen seventy-one?” he asked hesitantly.

“I–I don’t know,” Scarlett answered, glancing forward. “But, it has to be. Two thousand eleven? Why, that’s one hundred and forty years from now. I’d be one hundred and sixty-six!” Scarlett realized in disbelief, shaking her head side to side. She instinctively brought her hands to her face, feeling for the deep crevices certain to be present at such an age. Memories of Grandma Fontaine entered her thoughts. If Grandma Fontaine had been withered, wrinkled, and yellow in her seventies, what would she, herself, present beyond twice that age? It was a horrifying thought to Scarlett. Relief set in as she ran her fingers across her cheeks and still felt the smooth, tight skin of her relative youth. Studying the backs of her hands, there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, and she sighed gratefully. Yes, this man was surely joking about the present year–though she couldn’t understand why.

“Is there a reason you were at the house today?” Dylan inquired.

“Of course. I live there,” Scarlett said defensively, upset that this man was questioning why she had been present in her _own_ house. She should be the one questioning him on _his_ presence on her property.

“No one lives there anymore,” Dylan informed her.

Scarlett’s dark brows began to merge together as she stared at this man she had been so happy to see only a few moments earlier. Now she wished he’d never come to visit with his confusing lies: the nerve of this man!

“That’s not true,” she replied sharply. “Of course someone lives there! I live there and Rhett and Bonnie and Wade and Ella,” Scarlett countered, rattling off her list of occupants. “It’s my home!”

“How do you know so much about the family? Have you visited with us before or are you a long-lost relative? I don’t deny that you could be Scarlett’s twin,” Dylan said, pulling out of his coat pocket a rectangular object: one like Scarlett had seen that short-skirted woman holding earlier. “Have you seen one of these before?” he questioned, as if believing the woman lying in the bed really was unfamiliar with the modern world.

“No,” Scarlett answered, her eyes growing wide at this glowing object in Dylan’s hands. Instantaneously, her irritation vanished as she had the urge to reach out and touch this strange and beautiful–what was it?

“You have heard of a telephone, haven’t you?” he queried. Scarlett shook her head, staring quizzically at him as if he’d just invented a word. “The injury to your head must be great,” Dylan said with concern as he looked down on this object. “Well, what I have here is basically a computer with a little side feature called the telephone. It’s a descendent of earlier communication systems like the telegraph. I’m sure you’re familiar with that,” he quipped facetiously. Scarlett nodded, signaling partial comprehension. “All right,” Dylan chuckled at her reaction. “Well, it also has a camera. I took a picture of a Scarlett Butler photograph from our collection; I wanted to make a comparison and see how closely you do resemble her.”

Dylan pressed his fingers to the surface of this shiny, light-emitting object and tilted it in Scarlett’s direction. Scarlett inhaled sharply, grasping the collar of her gown with tense fingers. There, in his hand, was a brightly lit photograph of herself.

“May I hold it?” Scarlett asked, reaching out as if for a new favorite childhood toy.

Dylan handed the object of desire over to Scarlett. She held the smooth, black object in her hands for a moment, studying a photograph taken during happier times: wondering how it was now here instead of on the larger cabinet card. Turning the nearly flat object in her hands, Scarlett examined the back and sides, searching for an opening that could have received an original paper photograph. Her finger innocently slid across the glass front and the image was altered. Now displayed was a photograph, in bright color, of a very pretty blonde woman with pinkish-red lips and a young girl with strawberry-blonde curls, both grinning widely, and a months-old baby in the woman’s arms.

“Oh, what happened?” Scarlett exclaimed, jumping from the surprise. “Where did it go?” she asked, looking down to her lap.

Dylan took hold of the object.

“No, I don’t believe you have used one of these before,” he said in recognition. He ran his fingers across the glass surface and allowed Scarlett to view her photo, now focused exclusively on her face instead of her whole figure. “Do you mind if I…?” he asked, holding the image to the right of her face. Dylan traded glances between the photograph of Scarlett and it’s exact, real-life copy, as Scarlett bit her lower lip nervously, squinting as she tried to determine his goal. Yes, he was testing her authenticity. “Can you try to hold your head a bit more like her?” Dylan requested, allowing Scarlett another brief glance of her photograph.

Scarlett rolled her eyes and obliged him for a moment, lifting her chin and striking the dignified pose she often used for photographs. Then, she shifted to glance at the photograph once more.

“That is me,” she said, nodding her head in the image’s direction. Noting Dylan’s hesitant expression, she reiterated, “It’s me. It really is!”

“All right. When did you pose for this particular photograph?” Dylan challenged. “Listen to me. I’m already saying ‘you’ as if you really were this person,” he said amused at his slip-up, pointing to the image of Scarlett. “Either Scarlett’s got a doppelgänger in the modern age or you’ve had the best plastic surgery I’ve ever seen,” he added, laughing in disbelief. “You’re great at mimicking facial expressions,” Dylan complimented.

“What is a _plastic_ surgery?” Scarlett questioned. “What’s plastic?” she added, wrinkling her brow after hearing yet another term with which she was unfamiliar.

“OK, I don’t know where you were raised that you’re unaware of anything contemporary, but we’re getting off topic. Tell me, then, when and why this photograph was taken,” he said, issuing a challenge. Scarlett felt he hoped for her to give the wrong answer, but she wasn’t going to fail at this test.

“I posed for that photograph on the twenty-second of May, eighteen sixty-eight,” Scarlett answered confidently, carefully reaching for a cup on her bedside table. She smiled at the cleverly bent straw before taking a sip of the cool water.

“It must have been for a special occasion?” Dylan asked, eyebrows raised in question. “Photos weren’t taken as readily then as they are today.”

“It was my wedding day,” Scarlett replied calmly.

“And where is the happy groom?” Dylan asked with a skeptical glint in his eyes.

“There’s another photograph of Rhett and I together on that day. And there was a third with the four of us: Wade, Ella, Rhett and I. Rhett insisted on it,” Scarlett said in remembrance. “Do you believe it to be me now?” she impatiently asked the silent Dylan.

Studying the photograph with intensity, Dylan shook his head and laughed. He spun the object in his palm and presented the photograph to Scarlett again. Swiping his finger once over the image, the screen now revealed a photograph featuring Scarlett standing next to Rhett, who was positioned beside a carved rosewood filigree chair, his right hand resting on the corner of its back. Scarlett’s arm was casually linked with Rhett’s, showing off her diamond and emerald engagement ring, as they stared into the camera with looks of mutual satisfaction; showing hints of pride and defiance. Scarlett noted the gleam of the fine gold watch chain hanging from Rhett’s dark waistcoat. Her gold wedding band glowed just as brightly from her left hand, which rested loosely against the folds of the skirt of her casual violet-gray dress. She fondly recalled the color of the trim, made to recall the dark-green taffeta bonnet Rhett had brought from the Rue de la Paix ages ago. What a liberating feeling it had been to shed her black mourning clothes yet again!

“I forgot what a handsome pair we made,” Scarlett commented to Dylan with a sly smile. She met Dylan’s eyes in victory, wordlessly boasting, “I know what you have to show me next.” Dylan returned the challenging smile and transformed the image once again. There it was, the family photograph. Scarlett and Rhett were seated next to each other. Ella, who was not even two at the time, was being held in Scarlett’s arms to face the camera. Standing between Rhett and Scarlett in his first suit was Wade, still small for his six years. He was resting his hand securely on Rhett’s knee and there was a rare spark of life in his soft brown eyes, evidence of the excitement of the day.

“Indeed, a very fine family,” admired Dylan, studying Scarlett’s reaction to the photographs. “You were right, there were three images taken that day. These photographs have not been available to the public. Therefore, you know about something only a small portion of the family and my staff know about.”

Exasperated, Scarlett could still see doubt in Dylan’s eyes even though he seemed compelled to make an argument in her favor. What would it take to convince him of her identity? Sighing, she tried to think of anything she could do to prove she was who she admitted to be. What could she possibly say to persuade him if even her own face was only a suspicious link?

“Tell me about this photo, Scarlett. Tell me about the people in it,” Dylan requested encouragingly. He handed the device to her and she held it, resting the backs of her hands against the thighs of her bent legs, staring downward to the screen.

Another test, Scarlett determined.

“What would you like me to tell you?” she asked with fatigue, her gaze remaining fixed to the image of her family. Dylan requested information on parentage, birthplace, and names, while admitting that Scarlett could have found out most of this information in public records.

Scarlett started out rattling off the requested details, but soon realized that what was most important was _how_ she told her story and the stories of her husband and children. Scarlett began to speak of Rhett’s Charleston origins, his time at West Point, his days as a riverboat gambler and gold prospector, and his fame as a blockader at the time she came to know him. Scarlett explained that Ella Lorena was named after her grandmother, Scarlett’s mother, Ellen, and that Frank Kennedy, now deceased, was Ella’s father. As to her first-born, Wade Hampton came into the world at Tara in February of 1862 as a fatherless boy, because Wade’s father, Charles Hamilton, had died of measles and pneumonia in June the year before. Scarlett spoke lovingly of Ellen Robillard, the mother she worshiped, and of her indulgent, Irish immigrant father, Gerald O’Hara.

Dylan sat captivated by the details Scarlett provided as she focused on the faces of her husband and children. The disposition of her voice was knowing and sincere. It appeared she had inherited the skill of telling a tale from her father. Scarlett had also inherited Gerald’s love of Tara and stressed to Dylan how important it is that she hold onto the land for her children and their legacy. As Scarlett began to affectionately describe her childhood home, the nurse entered the room.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connolly, I’m afraid you’re going to have to conclude this visit,” she stated, touching him on his shoulder informally. Turning to Scarlett, she informed her, “Dr. Stevens is ready for you.”

“Oh,” Scarlett answered, blinking her eyes nervously and finding it difficult to swallow. Looking down, she glanced once more at the photograph in her hands, touching the screen briefly with her thumb. Michelle leaned over to remove Scarlett’s water glass and noticed the image.

“Cute boy,” the nurse said, referring to Wade. “Is that your son?” Scarlett subtly nodded, lost in the photograph. “I’ve been to one of those old-time photo booths at a fair, but your picture looks a lot more authentic than mine.”

Scarlett reluctantly handed the object back to Dylan as he slid forward in the chair.

“I hope we can continue this conversation,” Dylan requested while slipping the phone back in his pocket. “Will you be discharged today?”

“I− Um,” Scarlett began to answer, looking to Michelle for assistance.

“We’ll probably have you spend the night here,” the nurse answered.

“Maybe I will be able to visit before you’re discharged?” Dylan commented.

Scarlett sensed the heat of her fever intensify, mirroring the path of her anxiety.

“Please, can you return later?” she pleaded; using what little energy she had left to reach for Dylan’s arm. “After?”

Knowing what she had left to face today, Scarlett didn’t want to be alone. If she found herself alone she was afraid of what might run through her mind and lead her to another tearful episode. Only the necessity of discussing her medical situation with the doctor and hearing the news of Dylan’s visit had set her right this afternoon.

“You’re going to need your rest,” the nurse interjected.

“Why can’t he come back? I promise I’ll rest. I’m just– I don’t want to be alone,” Scarlett nakedly admitted to Michelle. “I’m…I’m going to have a sort of surgery now,” she announced to Dylan, almost in a secretive whisper. “Dr. Stevens is going to− Well…” Scarlett began, finding the words about her upcoming procedure getting stuck in her throat. She swallowed with difficulty and guided her eyes away from his. Dylan appeared to understand both her apprehension and the nature of her pending surgery. He had tightly pressed his lips together and nodded imperceptibly, sighing as if sharing in her grief. “Dr. Stevens said I’m not strong enough to just wait and…and I might get sicker if I do,” Scarlett explained, not mentioning the increased hemorrhaging which had been the critical determining factor. “Please, will you come back when it’s over?”

“Visiting hours go up until nine,” the nurse informed Dylan. “She probably won’t be ready for visitors until after suppertime.”

“Scarlett, I’ll be here this evening,” Dylan promised considerately, pressing her slender hand between his momentarily before rising from the chair. “We have much to discuss,” he added. “Take good care of her,” he requested of Michelle. “And you take care of yourself,” he commanded Scarlett; offering her an encouraging, if somber, smile before walking out the door.

Did he now believe her? Dylan certainly seemed to have a less cynical attitude about her identity since she began to describe the details of her life. Scarlett pressed her exhausted body into the firm bed, sensing an unusual mixture of hope and anguish. As Michelle detailed the procedure, Scarlett was thankful to give her full attention to the immediate situation, unable to focus her mind on all the unanswered questions assailing her. Maybe she could face them later… Yes, later she could stand it and attempt to make sense of everything that had happened this day–but not now. Now, she only needed to survive moment to moment until she could begin to feel like herself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, I'll try to keep to a monthly posting schedule. This second one in less than a month is just a bonus :)


	3. Chapter 3

## Part One

### Chapter 3

Dylan Connolly entered the Butler mansion from a side door, sneaking into his small first-floor office at the Atlanta Irish Institute without being detected. He was not yet ready to answer questions about their dark-haired mystery woman. The variety of opinions shared by his coworkers earlier had all been speculative. This woman who called herself _Scarlett Butler_ had been labeled an imposter and a reincarnation simultaneously.

Sadie had been most adamant that the event had been staged. He could now confidently argue against that point after learning of the miscarriage. Dylan had no doubt that Scarlett was terribly wounded by the knowledge that she had lost her baby. He never claimed to be an expert judge of character, but he could find no outward evidence of falsehood during his brief interview. The unfortunate woman seemed transparently honest. He believed that only a mentally unstable person could have done something like that to herself intentionally; and Scarlett had expressed no outward signs of this to his admittedly untrained judgment. Besides, what had she to gain from an impersonation?

Soon after the ambulance had transported their curious guest from the house, doubt set in. For all who were initially taken with Scarlett’s appearance, reality eventually trumped the desire to believe. It was impossible that the original occupant of this house would appear before them unless she had been a spirit. And this woman surely was not a ghost. Dylan, along with Peggy, Sadie, Jennifer, and James, had begun to ask logical questions.Why did this woman resemble Scarlett Butler so closely? Was she a descendant of whom they were unaware? How would she have known about the fall that had led to a miscarriage 140 years ago?

Having studied as many notes, diaries, letters, and records as they could get their hands on, all five of them were aware of the history of the accident, but they had never brought up the depressing subject to the public. Dylan speculated that most of Scarlett’s descendants were not even aware of this incident. It was unlikely that an outsider would have had easy access to these facts.

“Facts,” Dylan repeated several times as he swiveled in his chair to face the file cabinet. There would be great controversy over this woman until solid evidence was produced as to her identity. Dylan did not want to continue the discussion until he could do some research on what he had learned at the hospital. He leaned his left hand on the side of the gray cabinet while pulling open the third drawer from the top. Dylan’s long arm reached for a thick file folder containing historical facts and documents on the family members who originally occupied this house. He then pulled out a portfolio containing copies of photographs, including the wedding-day images Dylan had presented to Scarlett earlier. Just as he was beginning to study some 1840 census records regarding the Robillard family of Savannah, there was a knock on his open door. 

“I saw your car was back. How is she? Were you able to meet with her?” Jennifer asked, eagerly curious.

“Hey, Jen. You might as well join me,” Dylan said, fatigue in his voice. “Maybe you can help. I have no idea what to make of her.” Dylan paused while Jennifer sat down opposite him. “I did see her in the hospital and, again, she succeeded in convincing me that she is who she says she is–which I know is impossible.” Dylan paused, blindly staring down at the pile of papers on his desk with frustrated incredulity. “It was really upsetting to see what she’s going through,” Dylan expressed solemnly, returning his attention to Jennifer. “She did lose the baby.”

“Oh, no,” Jennifer reacted, pressing fingers to her lips as she crossed her left arm over her stomach as if it ached. She shook her head and leaned back into the chair facing Dylan’s desk. “I’d hoped that she’d gotten to the hospital in time for them to do something. What horrible news. She must be devastated,” Jennifer observed, her eyes growing moist in sympathy.

“She tried her best to hide the pain when I visited, but she’s clearly brokenhearted over this. What’s worse is she doesn’t have anyone with her: no family, no friends. The hospital hasn’t been able to make contact with any relations or even identify her. And so she’s left to face this alone,” Dylan stated with defeat, resting his folded hands on the desk. Jennifer sighed, overcome with the depressing news.

“So, do the doctors think she has amnesia? Do amnesia patients usually take on the personality of others?” Jennifer questioned, uncertain of the indicators.

“It’s a suspicion–the amnesia. But she seemed _so_ clear of mind,” Dylan stated, shaking his head in puzzlement. “The staff at the hospital were kind enough to answer most of my questions, considering our involvement in this incident, but were pretty guarded with any specific details, as they should be,” Dylan answered, his thumb fanning the corner of a stack of papers in front of him. “Is Sadie still here?” he asked.

“No, she had clients this afternoon. She left soon after you went to the hospital. James is leading the last tour now, and Peggy’s still here,” Jennifer explained. “I suppose you want to get us all on the same page.”

“Yeah, we should all meet again to discuss this as soon as possible. I honestly don’t know what action we should take on this; collectively, we might have better luck in deciding a course. I don’t anticipate pressing trespassing charges against the poor woman. The state, and maybe the police, will get involved with this case unless she is identified. If we inform the Board about this, her claims to being Scarlett Butler will surely come out; and I think it best if some members never heard of this incident, especially now as we’ve just been established. But word is certain to get out considering an ambulance turned up in front of the building this morning. God, and if we get sued…” Dylan deliberated, scratching at the prickly stubble along his jawline. “This isn’t something I anticipated having to deal with after only three months as director,” he joked, trying to alleviate the strain.

“I don’t think any of us did,” Jennifer responded with an understanding smile. She leaned forward in the chair, pressing her hands to her knees; her loosely-curled blonde hair sliding over her shoulders. “What can I do to help?” she asked sincerely.

Dylan smiled in thanks. He could use a second set of eyes with the pile of documents in front of him, and knew Jennifer was exceptionally meticulous. Dylan handed her a stack of documents, detailed the stories Scarlett had told him in the hospital, and requested that Jennifer search for anything remotely related to the histories of Scarlett O’Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler, Rhett Butler, Wade Hamilton, Charles Hamilton, Ella Kennedy, Frank Kennedy, Ellen Robillard, and Gerald O’Hara.

As time passed, Jennifer and Dylan traded bits of information they would run across in census records, letters, and histories written or dictated by descendants. At no time did they find information that contradicted Scarlett’s account of her past, but most of the anecdotes she had provided in the hospital were absent from the chronicle. Jennifer noted with wonder that most of Wade Hamilton’s fondest early memories included his aunt, Melanie Wilkes; stories of his mother were very rare. The Scarlett he presented focused on her hard work and unwavering loyalty to her family’s survival: making sure everyone had food, clothes, and shelter. Both Jennifer and Dylan had a renewed respect for the woman whose history they were expected to bring to life on a daily basis. Unquestionably, it had taken a brave, resilient woman to support her family in the days, weeks, months, and years following the Civil War.

“Wait–here,” Jennifer spoke out as she was focused on another document. “Do you think we could ask her about this? It’s a story about the sword.”

“The sword?” Dylan questioned.

“Remember the sword that Marilyn Enright has displayed in her home?”

“Oh, yeah…right,” Dylan replied, nodding after a moment of reflection, “it had a gold handle.”

“It formerly belonged to Wade Hamilton, and originally it belonged to…,” Jennifer began, looking down and guiding her index finger over the document to find the passage. “It originally belonged to William Hamilton, Wade’s grandfather.”

Dylan found the Hamilton family tree document, noting a William R. Hamilton, father of Charles and Melanie.

“So, in Wade Hamilton’s Civil War recollections, he writes of a time when the O’Hara family plantation house was looted by Union troops. It says here that he believes he was about two or three years old at the time. The troops were taking food and anything of value from the families in the area. There aren’t many details–probably because he was very young–but he claims to have never forgotten the terror he felt at the time. And he says there’s one image that stuck with him. It was the image of his mother’s outstretched hand, pleading with a sergeant to return the sword. He explained how relieved he felt when it was finally in his mother’s possession,” Jennifer concluded.

“Brave woman,” Dylan commented about Scarlett. “I’m surprised she had the courage to request anything of them at the time. She must have been terrified. But, you’re right, this small nugget is exactly the type of information we need to test her memory.” Dylan laughed to himself, roughing up his sandy-reddish hair with his hand, knowing he was beginning to step into the trap again. Why even test her with such facts? The woman lying in the hospital bed couldn’t possibly have been present for an event occurring in 1864.

“Are you going to see her again?” Jennifer inquired.

“Tonight, actually.”

“Really?” Jennifer asked, leaning back in her chair with surprise. “So soon?”

“She wanted me to return after dinner. She hasn’t anyone and I think she’s afraid of being alone. I know I would be, too, if I was suffering from amnesia or whatever this is,” Dylan answered, glancing up at the unembellished clock on the wall in front of him. It was about time to lock up for the day. He was looking forward to heading home for dinner, but then remembered what hell Atlanta traffic could be. Dylan was no stranger to creeping along an interstate, but there was no doubt that traffic in his new home metropolis was the worst he had ever faced since immigrating to this country. He would barely make it home to Marietta before having to turn around and head back to the city again. Dylan sighed and said, “Looks like I’ll be catching some dinner in town. I’d better call Carolyn and give her my sincerest apologies. She’s going to _love_ the reason for my absence,” Dylan sarcastically commented to himself with a laugh. “Will you inform James and Peggy of the situation?” Dylan asked, picking up his phone.

“Sure,” Jennifer answered, rising from the chair. She interrupted Dylan before he could connect the call, “Do you think I could visit her with you tonight?”

Dylan smiled, resting the phone next to his keyboard.

“Now, how will it help to have the two most gullible people here interrogate her? What I need is someone to help maintain my rationality: equal parts cynic and bulldog.”

“You must be talking about Sadie,” guessed Peggy, jokingly, as she and James approached the office door. “I’m sure she’d take that as a compliment,” she added wisely. James, Jennifer, and Dylan smiled, amused and in agreement.

“Well, I’ve got a lot to tell you two,” Dylan began, ready to fill James and Peggy in on the happenings at the hospital. “We’ll just have to bring our adopted Georgia bulldog up-to-date later.”

*              *              *

Slowly, progressively, the heavy weight was lifting from Scarlett’s being, giving way to consciousness. All had been blackness and silence, for how long, Scarlett was not certain. Now, as her eyelids once again had the power to unlock, she became aware of the dim light in the room. There was a subtle vibration throughout her entire body, as if her blood had just begun to flow through her veins again; quiet voices seemed to float in and out of her range. Sighing, Scarlett again closed her eyes, not interested in moving from this position while blanketed with fatigue. Feeling a presence approach her, she cracked her eyes to look upon a woman at her bedside.

“Hello, Scarlett. You’re coming out of the anesthesia now. You’re in recovery. My name is Sharon and I’ll be your nurse for the next four hours. Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Do you have any acute pain?” she asked.

Scarlett shook her head delicately and brought her right hand up to her face, instantly feeling the cold wetness of her cheek. She noted that tears were streaming from her eyes, and while she certainly had a valid reason for this, Scarlett could not tie any direct emotion to them at the moment.

“I’m crying?” Scarlett questioned groggily.

“If you don’t know why you’re doing it, it’s probably a result of the anesthesia. I’ve seen lots of strange reactions to these drugs, and this is one of them. Are you nauseous?”

“No,” Scarlett thankfully replied.

“Good, I think we’d rather have watering eyes over nausea,” Sharon stated. “This will pass,” she reassured Scarlett, studying the monitor next the bed. “Now, are you feeling comfortable? Is the pain worse than it was before the procedure?”

Scarlett closed her blurry eyes, relieved to know that the procedure had been completed. It was now over and she was one step closer to normalcy, leaving the nightmare of this miscarriage behind.

“No, I don’t feel anything, not like before,” Scarlett answered quietly, thankful for this reprieve from the pain. “I’m so tired,” she whispered as she drifted further and further away not hearing or having the ability to respond to any of the following questions posed by the nurse.

Her next chapter of awareness began after hours of deep, dreamless sleep. Another nurse was examining her, first tightening a cuff around Scarlett’s slender bicep and then shining a blinding light into her eyes.

As Scarlett flinched at the bright beam, the young, brunette nurse said, “Good evening. I hear you’ve been having quite a nap. My name’s Mary and I’ll be on duty until eleven thirty. How are you feeling?”

“Dreadfully tired,” was all Scarlett could express, wishing this to be a brief interruption so she could return to her slumber.

“Hopefully you’ll have enough energy for some visitors. They’ve been waiting to speak with you,” Mary informed her, sparking Scarlett’s curiosity.

Staring silently towards the ceiling, Scarlett repeated the word _visitor_ over and over as she tried to place herself in space and time. She had been too tired to think of anything but sleep, but the time to reignite her mind had arrived. Where was she? What had happened to her? Why was she confined to bed in this small, unfamiliar room? When she had first woken, there was no question that she was at home, but the clues soon began to mount that this was not the case. If she were ill and confined to her bedroom on Peachtree Street, surely Mammy would be nearby.

“Why am I not at home?” Scarlett asked aloud to herself.

“You’re in the hospital. You had a very serious fall and then had a D and C here several hours ago. Are you having trouble remembering things?” Mary asked as she obtained Scarlett’s temperature.

“I…I do believe I am,” Scarlett answered as the details were creeping back. Yes, the strangeness of this day was slowly coming to the light. Over the course of this day, everything and everyone she knew had seemingly disappeared.

“Good news. Your fever is down slightly. We’re heading in the right direction,” Mary affirmed genially. “How’s your rib feeling?” Scarlett grimaced as she took in a deep breath. “Not so good, huh?” Mary said empathetically. “I hope you’re a patient person, because I’m not going to lie, it’s going to take some time, but you’ll heal up from this just fine,” she reassured while entering some information into a computer. “All the other tests have come back negative. No internal bleeding. No other broken bones.”

“So, as I said, you have a couple of visitors,” Mary stated, lifting up a small slip of paper from a counter along the wall. She read the names off, “Dylan Connolly, who was here with you this morning, and James Barrows. Would you like me to admit them to your room?” she asked.

Scarlett paused, drawing from her short-term memory. Yes, she remembered meeting with Dylan earlier and that she had looked forward to continuing their conversation. Scarlett also recalled the topic of their talk. “Oh, he doesn’t believe me…about who I am. Or does he? Oh, I can’t remember exactly,” she thought, frustrated with her exhausted mind. More than anything she wanted to leave this hospital and go home. Dylan might be able to help her get there.

“Yes. Yes, I would like to see them,” Scarlett answered, not quite firm on the identity of James Barrows.

“If you’d like to sit up, you just need to push these buttons,” Mary explained as she placed a remote in Scarlett’s hand and demonstrated the raising and lowering of the head of the bed by pressing on arrowed symbols. Scarlett was lightly diverted as she tested the mechanics herself. Then, Mary instructed her on using the large call button for assistance. “Before I get the gentlemen, I have a few more questions for you, if that’s all right?”

Scarlett agreed, wondering when she would have an opportunity to receive answers to the multitude of questions spinning around in her head.

*              *              *

“Scarlett, it’s nice to see you again,” Dylan said with a smile as he entered the room. He stretched out his right hand to Scarlett and she weakly lifted hers, placing it in his hand in greeting. “Do you remember James?” he asked. “He was with us this morning when we found you.”

“Oh, yes, I think I remember,” she replied with a nod as James took her hand in his. The men placed themselves in chairs to her right, James Barrows closest in proximity. “It’s all a bit hazy right now,” Scarlett answered, studying his features. He was a distinguished-looking man, possibly in his mid sixties. His gray head of hair showed traces of its former shade of brown and his short beard and mustache were progressively turning white on his pale face.

“You both were there with those women when I woke up,” Scarlett recalled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, you gave the five of us an unexpected shock this morning,” Dylan answered. “Does the doctor have a good prognosis for you?”

“A what?” Scarlett asked, again reminded of her meager vocabulary.

“Are you on the mend?” Dylan restated.

“I think so. The nurse doesn’t seem too concerned and she said I’ll heal up just fine,” Scarlett answered, repeating Mary’s analysis.

“Well, that’s very good news. And you’re feeling better?”

Scarlett nodded in reply.

Dylan looked to James momentarily before addressing Scarlett.

“We don’t want to tire you out, so we should probably cut to the chase. James suggested we retrace your steps up to when we found you and learn a bit more about you. I suppose you were wondering why he tagged along with me tonight?” Dylan said voicing one of Scarlett’s thoughts. “James is currently a volunteer with us, but he spent his career as a social worker in Fulton County, so he’s dealt with cases similar to yours.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’ve ever dealt with a case quite like this, but maybe I’ll be able to provide some assistance,” James offered with his deep, gentle voice. “We’ll try to walk you through your day and find out how you ended up at the house this morning,” he stated, folding his hands on his lap.

“All right,” Scarlett agreed, willing to do anything it took to clear up the confusion surrounding her. She prepared to take a deep breath in, but stopped abruptly, reaching for her stabbing rib. The men sat silently for a moment while Scarlett pressed her right hand below her left breast. Then, she urged, “Go on. Go on, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

The two men looked to each other briefly before returning their focus to Scarlett.   “I want to establish your foundation first. What’s your full name?” James asked.

“My full name? Well, I was born Katie Scarlett O’Hara–named after my grandmother–my father’s mother,” she clarified. “Then I married Charles Hamilton, then Frank Kennedy, and then Rhett Butler, so I’ve gone by many names. Everyone’s always called me ‘Scarlett’, though–well, except for my father at times.”

“When is your birthdate? Where were you born and raised? And who were your parents?” James continued.

Scarlett’s eyes closed momentarily, feeling as if she’d just consumed one-too-many glasses of brandy, but fought off the urge to lose focus. She felt that nothing was more important than remaining alert and answering these inquiries to the best of her ability.

“I was born…I,” she paused for a lengthy yawn. “I…I need smelling salts,” Scarlett stated with quiet frustration. She shook her head, disappointed that her will was failing her. “I’m so sorry. I will try.” She yawned once more and forced herself to begin again. “I was born and raised in Clayton County, Georgia. My birthdate is the fifth of November.”

“And the year?” James pursued when that detail had seemingly been omitted.

“Eighteen forty-four,” Scarlett answered with reluctance. “My mother was Ellen Robillard of Savannah and my father was Gerald O’Hara from County Meath, Ireland.” Scarlett again closed her eyes.

“And you’re currently settled where?” James asked.

“Atlanta–on Peachtree Street, where you found me this morning.”

“You’re certain you were in your home?” he followed up.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Scarlett stated, her sleepiness fading slightly. While she knew that her accident had occurred in her home, Scarlett didn’t express to the men the odd feeling she’d had of being slightly out of place after she had been discovered.

“Please, tell me your status at this time. Married? Children?”

“Yes, my husband is Rhett Butler. We’ve been married three years. And I have three children: Wade Hamilton, Ella Kennedy, and Bonnie, my daughter with Rhett. I own and manage a general goods store, two lumber mills, and two lumberyards. I also possess additional property.”

Noting Scarlett’s eyes were closed again, James shook his head in disbelief, looking to Dylan, his expression steeped in amazement. There was no hesitation in Scarlett’s answers to indicate a charlatan. She was certain of her identity. Scarlett returned her focus to the slender man after a period of silence.

“What do you want to know next?” she asked, attempting to accelerate his examination.

James tilted his head to the right and folded his arms in front of him, preparing his next query.

“Tell me about your day, from when you awoke this morning.”

“Well… It’s been like most days recently. I wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed in bed for part of the morning. Then, I remember hearing Bonnie call for me and I ran out to see her. Rhett had taken her away with him on a trip and–yes, they had been in Charleston. They had just arrived home. Bonnie showed me a kitten her grandmother had given to her,” Scarlett remembered, finally having time for the information to filter through her mind. “I was so happy to see Bonnie and Rhett again. It had been so long.” After a moment of contented reflection, Scarlett’s expression turned sour and her eyes and shoulders dropped.

“Where were you when you greeted your daughter?”

Swallowing with difficulty, Scarlett quietly cleared her throat and then answered, “I was on the landing, at the top of the stairs, looking down to the entrance hall.”

“Is this soon before your accident?” James asked hesitantly.

Scarlett sat motionless, pressing her back into the bed, and glanced downward with a sigh, directing her eyes away from Dylan and James. The rawness of what had thrust her into this situation was now evident. She didn’t want to think of it. But she had to think of it.

“Yes, I was holding her only moments before,” she answered with composure.

“Was she there to witness the fall?” Dylan asked concernedly.

Shaking her head, Scarlett answered with relief, “No, thank God. She had been taken to the nursery.” Scarlett’s eyes began to collect moisture as her thoughts lead up to the devastating moment; she felt her chest tighten.

“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” Dylan apologized, shifting his chair closer to the bed and placing his hand over Scarlett’s. “We’ll leave you to your slumber in just a few minutes, but it’s very important.”

“I understand,” Scarlett answered meeting Dylan’s eyes with her own as she swiped away an escaping tear. “Go on,” she requested of James as Dylan withdrew his hand.

“What happened after your daughter left the landing?”

“Rhett came up the steps,” Scarlett continued, her voice cracking on her husband’s name. “He was– He said– He was not kind in his greeting,” she answered with a sniffle, watching her toes curl nervously under the thin blanket. She clasped her hands tightly.

“Was there an argument?” James pressed.

Scarlett thought for a moment, wondering what one would call her exchange with Rhett. Rarely would she describe any heated interaction with her husband as an argument; generally she argued and he remained eternally cool and unaffected. How frustrating it had been!

“Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s what it was,” Scarlett replied uncertainly, rapidly sensing chills from her shoulders to her feet.

“May we ask why you had a disagreement? You said you had been happy to see him,” Dylan stated with puzzlement.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” Scarlett replied curtly. “It’s a private matter. It’s not important for what happened. I was just angry with him and…well, I lost my balance.”

“Did he strike you, Scarlett?” James asked directly, his eyes tenderly focusing on the dark bruises on Scarlett’s face.

Taking a short audible breath, Scarlett turned her head to answer.

“No! No, Rhett’s never struck me,” she instinctively defended with honest eyes. Dropping her head, she studied the identification bracelet around her wrist, and continued, “I–I tried to– I wanted to– Oh, he was so nasty, so hateful. I wanted to hurt him,” she confessed fiercely. “But instead, I lost my footing and I fell.”

“Your husband saw you fall, then?” James asked for clarification.

“Yes. Yes, he was there, right next to me.”  
“Did he reach for you?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t know. It all happened so fast. He was moving away from me. It probably wasn’t possible,” Scarlett conjectured, shaking her head shamefully.

“Did you see him after your fall?” James questioned.

Scarlett continued to shake her head, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

“No, I didn’t see him–or anyone. I thought Rhett had walked away knowing I could be dying,” she confessed, her voice cracking under the strain. “I don’t know what happened!” She turned to the men sitting next to her. “Why was everyone gone? I called for help and then I opened my eyes and you all were there.”

“You remember how I told you that it was two thousand eleven and not eighteen seventy-one?” Dylan asked gingerly.

Scarlett nodded her head, upset that she did remember this bit of information. How could this be? She probably would never be able to answer that question, but somehow she knew it was fact. It was 2011. Just hearing this truth brought her to convulsive tears. The men sat silently, looking to each other for action, while Scarlett wept into her palms. When she finally revealed her eyes, she studied the expressions on the faces of Dylan and James through choking cries, searching for answers. Scarlett’s wet, red face and disheveled black hair painted a desperate appearance.

“Don’t they have a box of tissues in here?” Dylan said in frustration, his eyes searching the room unsuccessfully.

“I…don’t…under…stand,” Scarlett stated between sobs, dabbing her face with the blanket. “Is everyone I know…dead? Mother of God, where am I?” Scarlett exclaimed loudly, her eyes frantically searching the space she occupied, her mouth hanging open helplessly. “I can’t go home again, can I?” She crossed her arms over her stomach, pressing against the sharpness of her rib, and pulled her knees toward her body as she rocked back and forth. Pinpricking chills ran down her arms and her breaths grew short and shallow. What was she going to do? She didn’t know how she got here and certainly didn’t know how, or if, she’d ever get back home.

“Shh,” Dylan instructed, stepping towards her and grasping her right bicep gently. He comfortingly rubbed her back as he had for his daughter, Olivia, when she’d been frightened by the booming thunderstorms of the northern plains. Scarlett was no four-year-old, but he sensed a childlike quality in her. And his touch seemed to pacify her. Scarlett began to relax her tense muscles and her trembling body, attempting to halt her whimpers and regain her composure.

As her breathing returned to a more stable pattern, she looked up to Dylan’s warm blue eyes and whispered, “I’m a– alone, aren’t I?”

“Alone? No, we’re here aren’t we?” Dylan answered sincerely, displaying himself and James to her with his outstretched hand.

Scarlett turned her focus in front of her, sniffling, staring blankly into the blurry space.

“What am I going to do? I have to do something,” she whispered to herself in encouragement. “Crying’s never been useful for anything really important,” she said resentfully, attempting to dry her face with the back of her hand.

“We’re here to help you,” James added. “You definitely don’t have to go through this alone.”

“We’ll figure all this out. Don’t you worry,” said Dylan, flashing a reassuring smile as he searched the room for some tissue, finally spotting the elusive box under a rolling bedside table in the corner of the room.

“I’ve really come forward one hundred forty years?” she questioned with wonder while reaching for the box of tissues Dylan offered. It seemed as if the two men were as lost as she. “Tell me. Do I…do I still look…young?” Scarlett asked tentatively, through sniffles, knowing how dreadful she must appear at the moment. She combed her fingers through her dark, tangled hair while simultaneously soaking up her tears with a tissue.

“What would you guess, James, nineteen?” Dylan asked lightly. James agreed with a smile and a generous nod of his head.

“Are you trying to flatter me, Mr. Connolly?” Scarlett replied charmingly, diverted by his sweet-talking compliment. “I just told you my birthdate. You very well know I’m twenty-six.”

“And not a day over,” Dylan responded, smiling. “No, you still appear very young. Much younger than the two of us,” he said, pointing between himself and James. “Although I’m not _quite_ old enough to be your dad, I’m afraid. But James could easily be your grandfather, couldn’t you James?” Dylan asked teasingly before James gave him a feigned evil eye.

Scarlett pressed her lips together in a true smile, relieved over her appearance and happy to have met such kind, good-hearted strangers. If she had nothing else at this moment, at least she had her youth. This meant she would soon have the energy to tackle her foremost challenge–finding her way home, or at worst, making her place in this new world. But she resolutely decided, with no supporting evidence, that if she could come to 2011, she could go back to 1871.

“Scarlett,” James said, interrupting her thoughts. “Would you be willing to submit to genetic DNA testing?”

“What’s that?”

“It will determine if your genes, your ancestry, match that which we would suspect from a descendent of the O’Hara-Robillard line. All the hospital would need from you are some cells from a cheek swab,” James explained.

“I’m sure I don’t understand,” Scarlett stated. This language was unfamiliar, and while that was not unusual for her, she hadn’t even heard a smattering of these terms in passing before.

“Cells are the small units of which our bodies are composed; just like plants are made of cells. Did you ever look at an onion’s cells under a microscope when studying science?” James asked.

Scarlett shook her head, knowing if the subject had even been offered to her, she probably wouldn’t have cared to pay attention.

“So, for example, focusing on your father’s line, if we collected some cells from you and some from your son and some from your father or even your great-great grandparents in Ireland, they would all contain matching bands of DNA, so we would have definitive proof that you were related to each other. It’s like an invisible family crest hidden inside generations of your family bloodline. In the same way, we could use this to prove that you are in fact the Katie Scarlett O’Hara born in eighteen forty-four, or more accurately, a member of this family. I guess we can’t definitively prove that you’re actually Scarlett O’Hara,” James said, partially retracting his previous statement. “However, we would know that you’re related, so it would be very helpful for us to move on from here.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do whatever is necessary,” Scarlett replied. So, there was something she could do to prove her identity without even saying a word. How very interesting! “Do you think I am who I say I am?” she asked in her persuasive manner.

“I think you might be telling the truth,” James revealed to Scarlett. “I don’t know how this is possible, but I’m not going to dismiss the thought and let a little thing called logic get in the way. You may very well have come to us from the past.”

Following James’ comments, Dylan stared at him, mouth wide open in disbelief.

“Time travel? I never thought I’d live to see the day,” Dylan quipped in his lilting Irish voice. “What have you gotten us muddled in, James? I thought surely you would be the voice of reason!” Dylan expressed with humor.

“Do you think she’s Scarlett Butler?” James pointedly asked.

Dylan smiled, shaking his head, and laughed quietly to the heavens.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s her,” he admitted. “God help me. I think we’ve all gone a bit nutty. I may have lost a marble or two,” he joked. “By the way, I have one more thing I wanted to ask you about, Scarlett,” Dylan said in recollection. “Because you’re Scarlett Butler from eighteen seventy-one, you experienced the Civil War, correct?”

“Civil War?” Scarlett repeated over and over to herself. “Oh, you mean the war between the states?”

Dylan nodded.

“Yes, but there was nothing civil about it,” she stated, upset by his chosen definition. “It nearly ruined us all, such foolishness,” she responded bitterly. “It killed my parents just the same as if they’d been on the battlefield.”

“I’m sorry to have brought up a tender subject. I should have known better,” Dylan said apologetically.

“No, I just don’t like to talk about it much. I’m not like all those men sitting around and reliving their war days. I find no purpose in that. There’s no real purpose in looking back once you’ve lost everything,” Scarlett answered forthrightly. “What do you want to know about it?”

Dylan cleared his throat, taken aback by Scarlett’s candor. “Well, I really don’t want to upset you by reliving details and…”

“No, go on. If it helps you believe in me more, I want to tell you what you need to know,” Scarlett encouraged.

“All right, I’d like to know of your time living at your plantation home–the place where you were raised–during the war. Specifically, I’d like to know if you encountered any Union troops while you were there?”

Scarlett closed her eyes, unlocking a segment of her memory she rarely visited. Despite her aversion to these recollections, she was proud to have survived these trials and experienced her small victories over the Yankees. No matter how trivial they may have seemed to others, they were triumphs for Scarlett O’Hara. Surviving those encounters with a roof still over her head, when so many others had lost their own homes, were successful battles in her opinion.

“Almost immediately after I had returned home from Atlanta, a Yankee deserter entered my house looking to rob us of anything precious we had remaining, which was next to nothing. I shot him before he could attack me,” she declared without remorse. Scarlett normally wouldn’t have allowed herself to be so blunt and forthright with this information, but she felt a certain freedom here, so far removed from her time. What consequences could she possibly face now? She studied James and Dylan’s expressions, noting the intense interest they paid her. She continued, “Then a whole company of them came a month later. They tore up my home, broke mirrors, ruined our furniture…”

“Were you there alone?” James asked.

“Alone?” Scarlett began, lost in her memories. “No. No, I had Beau, Melanie’s baby, with me. And…and, yes, Wade was there, too, clinging to my legs,” she said showing remnants of her annoyance. “Everyone else had run to the swamp to hide. I ordered Wade to run and hide with them, but he just wouldn’t let go of me. But, I just couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t have been able to stand hiding and knowing the house would be set afire without protest. I couldn’t let them do it.”

“Well, you’re braver than myself,” Dylan said with great respect. “Did they get away with anything or were they just there to wreak havoc?”

“Oh, they took just about everything…blankets…clothes… They burned our cotton. But we’d saved some of our livestock and our home was left standing with help from Melly,” Scarlett stated with rare praise for her sister-in-law. “And our money was in Beau’s diaper.”

James and Dylan laughed at the news of this unique hiding place.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Dylan said. “I have many more months for that option should the need arise. But your poor boy, how old was he? It must have been terrifying for him.”

“Wade? He was so small. Let’s see…not even three yet. I just remember him never letting me go, hiding behind my skirts and shaking. I thought he’d truly been scared to death that day.”

“How is he now?” Dylan asked curiously. “Do you think he’s been scarred for life from his experience with war?”

“Do you mean did it ruin him?” Scarlett asked, thinking back on how the war had affected her father. “He’s fine. Maybe a little quiet at times, but he’s a normal boy.”

“How old is he now?” James questioned.

“He’s nine,” Scarlett replied.

“And how about you? Were you as frightened as your son that day?” Dylan continued.

“Frightened…yes. And humiliated… And I was so angry! I wish I would have used Wade’s sword to stab the man right through who stole Mother’s gold thimble, or used it to cut to pieces that man who set fire to the kitchen,” Scarlett revealed with venom, briefly shocking the two men in her presence to an uncomfortable silence.

“They left you with a weapon?” Dylan then asked, directing Scarlett to his desired subject.

“Well, I don’t really know what I could have done with it at the time. Any action would have made things worse for us. They weren’t afraid of me, weapon or not,” she answered with fresh disappointment.

“What was Wade doing with a sword at the age of two?” Dylan continued.

“Oh, it was his grandfather’s on the Hamilton side–his father, Charles’ sword. The Yankees were going to take it, but then they suddenly turned generous,” Scarlett began with dripping sarcasm, “and they decided Wade should keep it. It would have broken his heart to lose it. It was really the only thing he had in the whole world; the only piece he had of his father. I couldn’t let them take it.”

“I just want to hug you!” Dylan stated with admiration for what Scarlett had done for her son, his eyes glowing in her direction. Both James and Scarlett stared at Dylan with questioning looks, as if he’d just revealed he was from Mars.

Dylan smiled widely, and said, “It’s you. It has to be you. You are Katie Scarlett, daughter of Gerald O’Hara. I can’t believe it!”

James looked to Dylan in his jubilation with a slightly more reserved expression.

“I know what your DNA test will say, my friend,” Dylan responded, pointing to James as he stood, stepping toward Scarlett. He leaned over, and before Scarlett had a chance to protest, Dylan carefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders with a comforting, fatherly embrace, patting her back softly. “We’ll help you get through this. Have no worries,” he whispered to her.

As he pulled away, Scarlett thought how nice it was to feel someone’s arms around her again. Sure, Melanie Wilkes would embrace her every chance she got, but somehow, that usually annoyed Scarlett or, more recently, made her feel unexpected, pestering twinges of guilt. How kind it was for Dylan to offer her some faith and reassurance with his arms. She decided she liked this Dylan Connolly very much.

However, she did feign some resistance.

“Is it common for you to take such liberties, Mr. Connolly?” Scarlett asked, unable to suppress an amused smile.

“My greatest apologies, Miss,” Dylan replied with a bow of his head. “But you’ve already taken up a soft spot in my heart. May I work as your advocate?” he asked. “Since you have no current family here, may I play the role of a sibling?”

“I always thought it would have been nice to have had a brother,” Scarlett answered. “Yes, Mr. Connolly, you may.”

“All right, James, proceed,” Dylan directed, as he returned to his chair. “She needs a good night’s sleep.”

James lightly chuckled at his colleague, clearly entertained by his antics.

“OK, back to business. Have you spoken to anyone yet about insurance or your address or any other personal information like your birthdate?”

“Um, well, Mary–I think that’s her name–yes, Mary asked, but I told her I didn’t understand some of her questions about insurance. Was she speaking of life insurance or insuring my businesses?” James shook his head. “They keep calling me by my name, so they know that. They’ve asked me my birthdate several times, and whenever I’ve told them, they correct me and say, ‘I think you meant nineteen eighty-four’ or something such as that. Now, I understand why. I did tell the nurse that I lived on Peachtree Street, but nothing else.”

“Good. Good,” James responded, nodding. “Well, what the nurse was asking you about is health insurance. It helps pay for the exorbitant hospital bills, which you will have. Right now I think it’s safer for you not to remember many details, and you can stick with nineteen eighty-four for your birth year any time you are asked. I’d like to set you up with a social worker from the Division of Family and Children Services tomorrow morning. This person will assess what your needs are and try to assist you to the best of their ability,” James explained. “You might become a ward of the state and possibly be placed in transitional housing.”

“Wait. Transitional housing?” Dylan interjected. “Don’t you think we need to keep her close to us and out of the system?”

“Are you going to be able to help her with her medical bills?” James logically asked. “We need to try to get her set up with Medicaid if possible. Get the process moving.”

“Can’t we do that, but still have guardianship over her?” Dylan pressed. “Matt’s on the road so Sadie has her apartment to herself right now. Scarlett could stay there.”

“Really? You think of the five of us, Sadie would be the one to take her in?” James replied skeptically.

Scarlett shifted her attention from one man to the other like following the ball in a tennis match, as they worked on deciding her fate. She hadn’t given much thought to where she would be staying once she left this hospital. She really had no one left to shelter her: not an aunt, not a sister, not a cousin, not a husband. All she knew was that she’d rather stay with someone she slightly knew, like Dylan or James, versus something called Family and Children Services, which sounded like a charity.

James returned his attention to Scarlett, “I think the most logical scenario is that you have amnesia– ”

“Amnesia!” Scarlett exclaimed, remembering diagnosed cases in soldiers during the war and how her father had forgotten reality. “But I–this is not amnesia! I’m perfectly sane. I know who I am,” she protested.

“Wait, wait. I didn’t say you actually _have_ amnesia. Have you met with a neurologist yet?” James inquired.

“Well… A ner-ol-o-..what was it? I don’t know what that is, but I only remember seeing the nurse,” Scarlett replied.

“I’m guessing you’ll be examined by someone who studies and treats the brain before you’re discharged–a neurologist. If your head was injured, there’s potential for loss of short or long-term memory,” James said, explaining something Scarlett already partially understood. “You don’t have amnesia, but it might be useful for you to pretend.”

“Pretend?” Dylan asked, eyeing James suspiciously. James gave Dylan a confident glance. “So, we’re going to cheat the system, are we?”

“It’s not so much cheating,” James replied. “It’s really just making sure Scarlett gets what she needs without the additional scrutiny. This is the path she would find herself on, eventually, if her identity were still in question. I’m just going to help speed things up. If she’s Scarlett Butler, she probably will not fit any of the missing persons reports and soon enough they’ll grant her independence once they’ve helped her onto her feet. It probably would be advantageous to play the amnesiac for now. I’ll make some calls in the morning and see if I can get someone I know on your case. Does that sound like a plan you can agree to?”

Valiantly meeting the men’s eyes, Scarlett nodded her head with confidence, eager to take control of her fate.


	4. Chapter 4

 

## Part One

 

### Chapter 4

 

Scarlett awoke the next morning well rested and optimistic with the promise and challenge of a new day. However, there was an element of trepidation in the anticipation of what obstacles would stand before her. She, James, and Dylan had decided on a plan of deception in order for her to gain freedom from those that might try to dig too deeply into her history or subsequently diagnose her with mental instability. While she had played many roles in the past, she had not always been completely successful in her pursuits. If the interrogators she faced today were as clueless as some of her country beaux, she would have little trouble. However, if they were clever like her current husband, she would seem completely transparent. Scarlett had never quite been able to deceive Rhett with pretense. And then there was the hard truth that she was completely out of her element. This was not 1871, after all. Scarlett was prepared for what was to come, but very uncertain about the capabilities of her examiners; maintaining her focus would be key.

A parade of visitors marched through her hospital room that morning, including Dr. Stevens, who after an examination confidently informed Scarlett that the procedure had been successful. The doctor didn’t anticipate any future complications for Scarlett, but requested that she schedule a follow-up appointment. Scarlett agreed, remaining as amenable as possible.

Following Dr. Stevens, Scarlett met with a handsome, brown-haired neurologist named Jeffrey Moore–a man in his early forties, who Scarlett was most nervous about seeing. This was the man she had to convince of her _authentic_ memory loss. His appearance caused Scarlett additional anxiety as well because she had to fight her penchant for flirting to turn the outcome of the meeting to her advantage. It often worked with men of a certain age, but she was unsure if it would help or hurt her in this case, so she refrained from the habit.

Dr. Moore had a very gentle demeanor as he initially tested Scarlett’s reflexes, strength, balance, and sensory functions with care. Following his exam, he started with several outwardly simple questions. These were questions Scarlett could have answered in 1871, but not all of them today. Now she wished she’d taken the time to ask James and Dylan about the world as it was in 2011.

The neurologist asked her for her name. Scarlett Butler. She was pretty certain of this, but there was a sliver of doubt. He requested that she give him the date. She could not say exactly. He wanted her to recall the current month. July. What was the year? Two thousand eleven, of course. He quizzed her about her birthday. November 5, 1984 sounded correct, though Scarlett couldn’t help but wince when stating the year, realizing it now made her another year older. The neurologist wanted Scarlett to name the current president. She couldn’t. Could she recount what had happened to cause the accident? Scarlett was _unable_ to remember the details, but recalled finding herself at the foot of a staircase. Dr. Moore asked what city they were in currently. Atlanta. He asked her where she lived. Peachtree Street. Dr. Moore asked about her husband, a man she’d earlier called Rhett. Had she really said the name Rhett? Why did it now seem unfamiliar to her? She’d been wearing a wedding ring, so who was her husband? Charlie? Was that his name? No, that was her first husband. Did she have children? Yes, she thought she had. Their names were Wade, Ellen…no Ella, and Victoria, no…what was her third child’s name? It wasn’t coming to her at the moment.

Proud, and slightly amused by her own performance, Scarlett hoped that she’d played her hand correctly and had used just the right amount of frustration in struggling with her mind. Dr. Moore left confident that her memory would come back with time as the minor bruises to her head had healed; her scans had shown no critical trauma. If she was still having difficulties, she should return to see him and they could do further tests. He didn’t seem too suspicious of her answers, Scarlett thought. Perhaps she played it just right; knowing just enough to allow him to think she’d improve without further intervention.

Then, for a few brief minutes, a young man in blue scrubs joined Scarlett. She was informed that he was there to gather samples for the DNA test. Scarlett signed her consent. With a brief set of instructions on how to collect cell samples from her cheek, he demonstrated on himself with the wooden end of a long cotton swab. Next, he tore open the paper of one official swab with gloved hands and passed the swab to her, asking her to repeat what he had just demonstrated. Scarlett complied, scraping the inside of her cheek, feeling somewhat foolish in the process. The blond-haired man placed the tip into a small plastic vial, sealed it, and asked her to repeat the process two more times. When he left with the samples, Scarlett eyes followed him longingly, desiring the proof she needed to confirm her identity. 

At the tail end of the procession was a familiar face–James Barrows. Joining him was an attractive woman with a mocha complexion. She had a head of soft, black curls falling down to her shoulders and she was dressed in a gray suit finely tailored to her slim figure. James introduced her as his good friend, Vanessa Davis, the social worker assigned to Scarlett’s case. Scarlett still hadn’t been quite certain what a social worker was, but this was certainly not a servant position. It was a bit puzzling to see a woman, who most likely would have been a house maid in Scarlett’s time, now in a much higher position, equal to the one James had formerly held.

James sat silently, while Ms. Davis conducted the interview. Again, Scarlett needed to pretend that her memory had partially failed her, though it was revealed that James had spoken with Vanessa earlier about the case and had convinced her that Scarlett may actually be related to the O’Hara family in question. He had also informed Vanessa about the DNA test Scarlett had agreed to take. While Ms. Davis consented to keep the suspected family relationship off the record for the time being, she would still pursue missing persons notices and determine if Scarlett could be matched to any of the recent cases. If the DNA tests did not show a match and Scarlett’s memory was not recovered, she would become a ward of the state, and the Division of Family and Children Services would take responsibility for helping Scarlett gain lawful permanent residence status to begin a new, independent life in Georgia.

In the meantime, Ms. Davis would begin the process for obtaining medical assistance for Scarlett and work with the hospital’s social worker on securing her release without immediate payment. Scarlett was also going to be required to meet with Ms. Davis on a regular basis. For now, Scarlett would not be placed in transitional housing, granted that she find an acceptable guardian willing to take responsibility for her. When Scarlett questioned James about this, he explained that there were several options and once it was settled, he’d inform Vanessa of the address where Scarlett would be residing. Scarlett happily agreed.

With clearance from the attending physician and a release from all the strange tubes and wires that had been attached to her body, Scarlett was given her discharge along with instructions on what to do and not to do during the healing process. Two prescriptions for medication had been written for her: one to battle infection, one to suppress pain. Sharon, the nurse Scarlett had briefly met with the day before, carried two sealed bags into the room containing Scarlett’s few, but bulky, belongings. Following the nurse was another semi-familiar face.

“Now, let’s check to make sure you’re leaving here with everything you had when you came in,” the woman stated.

“You’re– I remember you…I think,” Scarlett responded at her appearance, gingerly rotating on the bed to hang her legs over the edge.

“I’m Peggy Byrne. We met yesterday morning,” she explained, leaning forward to offer Scarlett her hand. “I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours. I wish we could have done more to help,” she stated genuinely, softly patting Scarlett’s right hand between hers. “How are you feeling, Miss Scarlett?”

“I’m better,” Scarlett replied quietly.

“That’s good to hear,” Peggy answered as she took the bags from the nurse and pulled a chair next to Scarlett’s bed. “I hope you don’t mind me coming along to retrieve you. I thought you might be more comfortable with a familiar female presence to help you out. James and Dylan have been monopolizing all your visitation hours. I brought you some of my daughter’s old clothes and a few new underthings and whatnot. Let’s check and see that all your belongings are here,” she suggested, handing Scarlett the large bag first as Sharon exited the room.

Scarlett squeezed against the odd-feeling plastic surface with her hands, visually scanning for an opening.

“It’s here, honey,” Peggy instructed, leaning over to separate the bag at the connected plastic handles.

Scarlett pulled at the handles, opening the bag fully. Resting it on her lap, she tilted her head downward to view the contents of the bag. She rifled through it, grasping each item it contained: her slippers, her dressing gown, her nightgown. Scarlett’s breath stopped upon seeing a patch of red staining her white linen nightgown and she sat frozen in silence. All the distractions of the morning had taken her mind away from the core of the tragedy she’d just experienced. The sight of her blood painfully brought it back to the forefront.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Peggy said, as she placed herself next to Scarlett on the bed. She put her right arm around Scarlett’s trembling shoulders and squeezed sympathetically, magically halting the tears that were forming in Scarlett’s eyes. “Here, let’s see what’s in the other bag,” she suggested as a distraction. “I’ll seal this one up for you,” Peggy said, taking the clothing bag away from Scarlett and trading it with the smaller one. “We’ll get this all washed up.”

Scarlett opened the second bag, no larger than a deck of cards, stuck a finger in, and pulled out two rings. She spun the gold band around her index finger with her thumb, meditatively, as the weight of the diamond on the second ring tilted the stones downward. Scarlett pulled the diamond and emerald ring off with her right hand, closing her fingers around it, and then slowly slid the gold wedding band back to its home of the last three years. She retrieved the second ring from her fist and pivoted it in the light, watching the colors of the rainbow leap from the numerous facets.

“That ring is stunning!” Peggy commented with a smile. Scarlett looked to Peggy’s kind face and returned a bittersweet smile, her lips sealed tightly.

“It’s my engagement ring,” Scarlett explained, handing it to Peggy to appreciate.

“Very extravagant. The diamond’s just so big!” Peggy emphasized. “I’ve never seen one so large before. Your husband must admire you very much. Mine’s never given me something like this!” she said with humor, showing Scarlett the eighth of an inch diameter diamond on her finger. “I think you need a magnifying glass to see this one. But, as long as he can afford it, the bigger the better, right?”

Scarlett nodded, feeling a slight amusement at Peggy’s comment, as she retrieved the ring and placed it on her right ring finger.

“So, is everything here?” Peggy asked nodding to the bags.

“I think it is.”

“Good. Well, we’d better get you ready, then,” she said, squeezing Scarlett’s shoulder again. “Are you feeling well enough to walk to the bathroom?”

Scarlett slowly lifted herself onto her slipper sock-covered feet with some assistance and Peggy, who stood just an inch or so taller than Scarlett, helped her to the bathroom, closing the door behind them for privacy.

Peggy hung a cloth bag on the handle of the door and pulled various items out before exclaiming, “Shoot, I forgot shoes. Hmm, such tiny feet, too!” She stared at Scarlett’s feet for a moment, determining how to solve this oversight. And while Peggy deliberated, Scarlett took her first long glance in a mirror since her fall. What she saw frightened her.

Spots on her cheeks, chin, forehead, and jawline had turned black and blue beneath rough, red patches of skin scraped by the carpeting of her staircase. A split lower lip had slightly swelled, giving an imperfect appearance to her mouth. She lifted her sore arms and pressed her hands to her tender face, tears instantly streaming from her rested eyes. What had happened to Scarlett O’Hara and her smooth, magnolia-white skin? She looked damaged, broken. No wonder people had repeatedly asked her if she had been beaten. If she, herself, had seen a woman who appeared this way, she would have suspected the same.

“Oh,” Scarlett sighed in anguish, hiding her face from Peggy, and from herself. She couldn’t bear to have anyone see her like this, and yet so many had in the last two days. Embarrassment and shame flooded Scarlett’s consciousness. She wondered what everyone had thought of her. What did Peggy think of her–allowing this to happen to herself?

“Hey, look,” Peggy began, placing her hand on Scarlett’s arm. “You’ll be all right and you won’t even remember those marks in a few weeks. You’ve survived the worst of it. You’re a pretty gal, bruises or not. Don’t be ashamed,” she soothed.

Scarlett turned away from the mirror and tentatively pulled her hands away from her face, giving her attention to the woman in front of her. She blinked her eyes, slowly gaining the confidence to hold eye contact with Peggy. What she saw was not pity, but encouragement. Again, Scarlett bravely pressed her lips together into a restrained smile.

“You’ll be all right,” Peggy repeated. Scarlett nodded and her smile expanded with Peggy’s confidence.

“I can wear my slippers…from there,” Scarlett suggested in solution to her lack of footwear, indicating the plastic bag that contained her belongings.

“Yes…yes, they’ll do for now,” Peggy agreed, seemingly relieved that this obstacle was solved. “OK, let’s get you ready.” 

*         *         *           

Scarlett left the hospital in what was her first introduction to modern underwear and what was described to her as jeans and a t-shirt. Her pants were a bit loose fitting around the waist even though Peggy’s daughter had only been fifteen years of age when she had worn them. Peggy had rolled up the cuffs on the dark blue jeans so Scarlett would not trip herself with each step and cinched the waist to the tightest hole on the belt. The jade green t-shirt actually fit quite well to Scarlett’s healthy frame. Peggy had assisted Scarlett in combing through her long, unruly hair, and helped pull it back in a low ponytail.

Walking through the hospital corridors had been an uncomfortable experience for Scarlett; constantly feeling that everyone she passed was staring intensely at her. She restricted herself from glancing in any direction but the floor in front of her. Scarlett was embarrassed over her bruised face and body and couldn’t bear to view the reaction of strangers. Peggy had suggested Scarlett boldly respond with the phrase: “You should see the other guy.” But Scarlett did not catch the joke.

Peggy and Sharon assisted Scarlett down to the lobby to meet James.  He had transportation waiting for Scarlett, and when she stepped through the doorway, where the doors magically opened without the push of a hand or a turn of a knob, her eyes fell on his automobile. Scarlett froze. Where were the dirt roads? Where were the horses…the carriages? To the south, in the distance, she saw buildings that must have been more than twenty stories high. Thankfully, she could not see what the hospital building was concealing to the north! She pulled back forcefully against the light grip of Peggy and the nurse, wishing to retreat back into the safety of the hospital building.

“This isn’t Atlanta!” Scarlett exclaimed, her voice shaking. “What’s happened? Where am I?” She instantly noticed discomfort in James’ eyes at her reaction, but he thought fast.

“I know you had mentioned–immediately after your accident yesterday–that you briefly thought it was eighteen seventy-one. Are you mistaken again today?” he said in a smooth, calm voice. “Did you expect a horse-drawn carriage?” he asked.

Although there was concern in his voice, his eyes communicated a message to Scarlett: _calm down or you’ll just make things worse for yourself._ Scarlett took some shallow breaths, attempting to ground herself. What good would it do her to act like an insane woman? The nurse may have the authority to send her away and lock her up forever. And it made some sense that Atlanta would look unfamiliar to her. It had been 140 years, after all. Scarlett recalled the time she returned to Atlanta, with Mammy as her chaperone, less than a year after the war had ended; how different it looked then from what she had experienced during the war. And she herself had contributed to the subsequent changes to the city, providing the wood from her lumber mills for the great expansion.

“Oh–no. Of course it’s two thousand eleven,” Scarlett responded calmly.

“Are you feeling light-headed?” Sharon asked. “Are you uncomfortable with leaving the hospital?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m acting a terrible fool. I am feeling quite well. I’m just still a bit confused. I don’t think I’ve been in Atlanta for some time, so it seems a bit unfamiliar to me. I’m very sorry for my reaction,” Scarlett said in apology, attempting to salvage the situation. “It’s been a very difficult time for me,” Scarlett said, dropping her eyes and softly biting the intact portion of her lip for effect.

“Here, let’s get you to the car. I know you’re very tired,” Peggy said, placing her arm around Scarlett’s petite waist. “Thank you so much for your assistance, Sharon,” Peggy said before walking with Scarlett to the glossy silver sedan. She plucked open the door and, in a hushed voice, ordered Scarlett to take a seat on the passenger side. Scarlett lowered herself onto the plush dark gray fabric, careful to avoid bumping her head on the roof, and shifted her legs inside the frame. She placed her bag of belongings on her lap, hugging it to her stomach. Once Scarlett was securely inside, Peggy closed the door, sealing her in this bizarre horseless carriage. The space was abnormally cool compared to the heat on the other side of the door and Scarlett felt a refreshing breeze emanating from slots in front of her as she listened to the hum of the engine. James and Peggy assured Sharon that they’d get Scarlett’s prescriptions filled and then took their seats, James in the driver’s position, and Peggy behind him.

“You’d better put your belt on,” James instructed Scarlett.

“It’s already on,” she responded, referring to the one holding up the trousers she was wearing.

“No, your seat belt,” James clarified.

“A seat belt?” Scarlett thought as her eyes searched around the small space, helplessly.

“Right here,” James demonstrated, tugging on his and clicking it into place.

Scarlett turned her head to the right and found the smooth strip of tightly weaved fabric. She pulled and it stretched longer and longer until she could buckle it near her left hip. Thinking of only one purpose for this, she asked, “How fast does this move?” remembering the speed her body felt as she was transported to the hospital the day before.

James pulled away from the temporary parking area without an answer. Scarlett glanced out the side window and returned Sharon’s wave before focusing her attention on the road in front of her.

“So smooth,” Scarlett commented as they effortlessly rolled across the blacktop.

James took the car along a rectangular path, returning near their starting point before heading south on a main road. Scarlett couldn’t help but turn her head in every direction, ignoring the soreness in her neck. There were people walking along the sidewalks and other vehicles like this one on the road, some larger and some smaller, some moving with them and some traveling in the opposite direction. Their advance, without a visible towing force, seemed like magic to Scarlett. It was sort of like a train without the track.

They came to a stop and Scarlett looked to James in question.

“It’s a red light,” he pointed with his hands still holding the wheel. “When it turns green, we can go.”  

A wise improvement on the sometimes-chaotic traffic of her time, Scarlett thought as she looked up in front of her and wondered if she had just seen a small black cross cutting a path through the pale blue sky.

“What’s that?” she exclaimed, pointing towards the left of the windshield.

Peggy rolled her window down and leaned to glance above the boulevard trees.

“That’s an airplane, Scarlett.”

“An airplane?” Scarlett repeated.

“If you can believe it, people and things are actually transported through the sky over long distances. Did you know you could travel from here to Paris, France in just over eight hours?” Peggy informed.

“You mean…no, how is that possible? It doesn’t seem…” Scarlett said, as her voice faded. She continued to stare at the object getting smaller and smaller in the sky, leaving a trail of clouds behind it.

“Lots of innovations have occurred since eighteen seventy-one,” James stated succinctly.

“I suppose they have,” Scarlett answered, flabbergasted, turning her attention to downtown as they began to move again.

They passed several tall buildings, which looked to Scarlett as if they contained millions of windows. As they moved further, there were even taller buildings in the distance and she began to read some of the visible signs aloud.

“Marriott Marquis. Imperial Hotel. First United Methodist Church,” she said, glancing to her right. As she twisted her head further, she caught sight of a small green sign that read _Peachtree ST NE_.

“We’re on Peachtree?” she asked loudly. Scarlett took in a 180-degree view of what was surrounding her. “But I…what part?” she asked James. “Nothing looks familiar.”

“We’re probably not even a half a mile north of your home,” James answered.

Impossible. How could everything she had once recognized be gone? Upon turning her attention forward, she saw a looming building, which, in this light, looked like it had mirrored glass windows.

“God’s nightgown!” Scarlett exclaimed, stretching out the words as she leaned forward, her eyes straining to see all the way to the top.

Her pinching rib caused her to pull back as she watched more buildings emerge before her, forming a shadow over the road.

“Baker,” she whispered in recognition of another familiar street name.

A bridge hovering high between two buildings abruptly caught her eye and her mouth hung open in awe. When James stopped the car at another red light, Scarlett momentarily pulled her attention away from the bridge and looked at the street sign.

“Harris,” she read, shaking her head in disbelief. “What is that?” she asked, pointing above them.

“Is she referring to the bridge?” Peggy asked James.

“Yes.”

“Scarlett, that’s a sky bridge at Peachtree Center. Maybe we could take you up there someday,” Peggy offered.

“A bridge? Well…I suppose it’s better than walking all the way downstairs to cross the street,” Scarlett decided, practically, causing a chuckle from James and Peggy. “Cain should come next, shouldn’t it?” Scarlett asked, recalling the upcoming street order.

They were getting very close to where her home had been, but how could it still be there? She soon realized that all the homes were gone. They would have already passed where Aunt Pitty’s had been. The Elsing’s, the McLure’s, and the Bonnell’s homes were nowhere in sight. Gone, all gone. But she’d lain on her fine entrance floor just yesterday morning. It was 2011 then. Did her home still exist? It didn’t seem possible.

“I don’t see the Governor’s mansion,” Scarlett commented. “But, this isn’t Cain?” she said to herself when she read the unfamiliar street name as they crossed the intersection near the Westin building that now occupied the site.

As they made their way down Peachtree, Scarlett strained her eyes for any other familiar scene. She desperately tried to place the noble Leyden house in this new layout, but gloomily gave up on its existence as they approached Ellis Street.

“Ellis!” Scarlett exclaimed. She intensely focused her attention out the front window of the automobile, holding her breath, making a wish. As she stared toward the southeast, not allowing herself to blink, she could see sky! There wasn’t a behemoth of a building occupying her lot and blocking the light! James turned onto Ellis and slowly passed by Scarlett’s parcel, while still there, reduced in magnitude. Scarlett recognized the original iron fence surrounding her property. She caught a brief glimpse of the red stone that made up the exterior of her home. And she could just see the gray shingles of the roof past the leaves of the boulevard trees. Her eyes grew misty as her hands clung to the car door below the window.

“Oh, it’s still here,” she sighed with relief. “It’s still here,” she repeated as all the strain in her body melted away and she grew limp. “Home.”

James turned right into a mid-sized parking lot that was located at the rear of the house, and pulled into a spot next to Peggy’s red SUV. Scarlett studied the lot, noting much of her land was lost to an area where people parked their vehicles. The servants’ house was missing, but a version of the carriage house and stables remained on its footprint. The majority of the back yard was gone, as were the iron summerhouse and bucolic benches that had been scattered throughout the lawn. But the house…the house was still here, and intact! Her eyes followed a paved path from the parking area toward the front of the house where the section of lawn remained unchanged.

Scarlett was desperate to reach the comfort of a familiar space. She struggled with the door, trying to determine how it released. Finally, she pulled a handle and the door popped open. She leaned in the direction of the gap between the door and the frame of the car, but was restrained by the belt James had asked her to put on.

“Great balls of fire!” Scarlett exclaimed in frustration and pain, determined to reach her front door.

“Here,” James said as he pushed the button to disengage the buckle.

“Hold on, hold on!” Peggy ordered, rushing to exit the car.

Somehow Peggy made it to the other side of the vehicle and took her arm before Scarlett could attempt a sprint to the house.

“Let me go! I want to go to the house!”

“We’re going. We’re going,” Peggy answered. “I think the house will still be there when we reach it, even if we take it slow. Doctor’s orders,” she reminded Scarlett. “Not much can keep you down, can it?”

Scarlett’s heart was pounding forcefully in her chest in her elation over the existence of the home she obsessively built from the ground up. She began to choke out tears of joy as Peggy and James assisted Scarlett to the rear of the house, to an entrance now used for employees, not servants. Peggy found a tissue in her purse for Scarlett before they reached the door. Scarlett gingerly lifted herself up the steps with Peggy’s support while James opened the door. She paused before it, placing her hand on the rough red stone to make sure it was not an illusion. Scarlett bowed her head in thanks as her thin fingers trailed across the coarse surface. She glanced at James and Peggy before taking a step into the house, out of the heat and the strange new world.

They entered into the back hall opposite the kitchen near the large storeroom, which had been transformed into Dylan Connolly’s office. James poked his head in the doorway, but did not find Dylan there. Peggy and James followed Scarlett as she explored the hall, dabbing her eyes with the tissue along the way. She peered up the servants’ steep, narrow staircase and her eyes followed along the drably painted walls. Scarlett noted a glowing bulb emitting light on the wall above one of the original gaslight fixtures and stared at the looping filament with interest.

“That’s an Edison reproduction light bulb. The house was converted to electric many years ago,” James explained.

Scarlett looked to James as he spoke, and realized that this was another new invention with which she had not been familiar. She continued, silently walking down the hall to a doorway that was situated just east of her main staircase. She turned the brass handle, pulling the door towards her, and stepped out into the entrance hall below the staircase. They moved from the dull space into an area with elaborate wallpaper, art, and mirrors, as if they were stepping from sepia Kansas into vibrant Oz.

Scarlett slowly made her way along the south side of the staircase, focusing on the familiar acid-etched windows in the main double doors as she passed the dining room. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she grasped the newel post for balance and tilted her head back, observing the cut glass chandelier. While that was original, she did not recognize the particular wallpaper covering the walls. As she glanced downward, she noted that the carpet was not quite what it had been in 1871. She turned clockwise, rotating her hand around the polished lion’s head of the newel post, and took a step up.

Peggy opened her mouth to discourage Scarlett from going further, but Dylan placed his hand on Peggy’s shoulder from behind, stopping the words in her throat.

“It’s all right. Let her explore. I’ll follow along and make sure she stays out of trouble. Everyone’s in the dining room; Car’s in there with the wee ones,” Dylan said quietly, encouraging James and Peggy to retreat.

Peggy grinned at the mention of the young children. She loved being a grandmother, but unfortunately her only grandchildren lived in Virginia, so Dylan’s children were a consistent, welcome sight. 

Dylan watched from the foot of the stairs as Scarlett slowly took each steep step with clear effort and determination, grasping the banister tightly with her right hand and holding onto the fabric of her jeans with her left hand as if lifting a skirt. He swiftly made his way up to meet her.

“Welcome to your home,” he greeted with a bright smile. Scarlett turned her head, pleased to see her favorite new friend.

“Is it?” she asked with mock doubt. “Part of it seems like mine, but I’m not sure who chose this carpet and wallpaper,” Scarlett commented with annoyance. “At least the scrollwork is the same,” she said, indicating the intricate carvings on the bannister.

“I’m sorry the lady of the house doesn’t approve. But I know we’ve tried our best to reproduce the interior decoration of the time with what’s available. You see, things do wear and go out of fashion after over one hundred and forty years,” he explained. “You should be pleased that it was so well cared for over the years instead of left to ruin.”

“I suppose,” Scarlett answered with resignation, turning to continue her ascent up the staircase with Dylan’s assistance.

“It’s a long way up when you have 15-foot ceilings on the first floor,” Dylan commented at the landing. “I hope no one ever broke a leg in this household. The unlucky one would have to choose a floor and stick to it for the duration. You’re feeling well enough to do this?”

Scarlett nodded, though internally, she was less certain.

After three more steps, they were on the second floor, location of the private family quarters. Scarlett walked ahead of Dylan, presenting to him her slight, shadowed silhouette. In silence, Scarlett examined the scene before her down toward the two curved windows at the end of the hall that were letting in the western light. It was so bright! She couldn’t remember so much light illuminating this hall before. She glanced along the walls, which held several portraits and landscapes, and noted that the numerous doors were each in their rightful place. At least that hadn’t changed.

Turning to her right, she retreated past the stairs and stepped through the first door and into the bathroom. The water closet still remained, built into the carved faux mahogany paneling along the right. The marble sink and curvaceous vanity were just beyond the water closet in one of the northern corners of the room. A small window was situated above the vanity, exposing the eastern sky. Scarlett turned to face the deep cast iron bathtub, which rested in a nook along the western interior wall, and imagined how nice a cool bath would feel right now.

“So far, this is one of the most popular rooms in the home. It’s the one bathroom in the house that we show to the public–the original one,” Dylan explained. “The visitors have been amazed at the modern fixtures you put into this home.”

Scarlett softly grinned at this news, pleased that her choices had impressed visitors to her home. Beyond her own personal comfort, impressing and creating envy in her neighbors and acquaintances was always her ultimate goal when designing this structure.

She took a deep breath, pressing her hand against the broken rib, before approaching the open door between the bathtub and sink. Taking two gleaming wooden steps up through the doorway, she entered her beloved bedroom–what Rhett often referred to as her sanctuary. Looking down with a sigh, she noted that her chosen rose wool carpet was missing and replaced with one possessing an olive hue. She faced the colossal bed, which remained in its original position between the two northern windows: the dark, majestically carved headboard nearly reaching the ceiling. She briefly stared at the bright quilt, warmly remembering the thrill of sinking into the softest and deepest of featherbeds for the first time in her very own home. How she wished to do that now!

Her eyes followed the angled light beams to the eastern window and then glanced to the two large northern windows. Somehow, the pink brocade draperies remained. Scarlett walked over to the eastern window, lightly grasping the fabric in her hand.

“Ehm, I’m sorry to say those are reproductions, as well. Do they pass for the original?” Dylan asked tentatively, noting Scarlett’s interest. “They were specially made.”

“Oh, yes, I thought they were the ones I’d ordered,” Scarlett said, slightly disappointed that these too had to be replaced.

But they had indeed matched the curtains almost perfectly, and the curtains looked fresher than when she’d last seen them the morning before. She looked around the room, scanning the objects scattered throughout, and admired her monumental black walnut bedroom set.

“That’s mine, isn’t it?” she asked, pointing across to the vanity in the southwest corner of the room. “And this?” she asked, pointing to the ornately carved dresser to her left. “And these?” she asked, referring to the divans, tables, and chairs to either side of her bed, one set near the fireplace in the northwest corner of the room. While the fabric on the divans and chairs did not seem familiar, the forms did.

“Yes, the furniture is original,” Dylan replied happily, hoping that news would remove the disenchanted expression from Scarlett’s face. “Some pieces were found in the attic and the rest you see here was scattered among relations and has recently been donated to re-furnish the home. There’s much generosity in your family.”

She smiled widely as she turned to the colossal dresser, reached for the glass knobs, and began pulling out the empty drawers like an excited child, blindly ignoring her image in the full-length central mirror. Then, Scarlett approached the closet door opposite the foot of her bed, opening it up and disappearing into the cavernous space. She fondly remembered the excitement and anticipation of filling it with all her new clothes, shoes, and bonnets when her family moved into the home. Now it was empty, as if she were meant to restock the shelves, pegs, and drawers and start all over again. Scarlett walked out with reluctance and closed the door behind her.

Next, she passed the hall door to her room and toward her vanity, brushing a finger through a thin layer of dust on the white marble surface before glancing in the mirror as she had done countless times before. At first she didn’t recognize herself in the modern attire and thought it a different woman in the glass. Then, Scarlett noted the bruises on her face and she was brought back to her reality. She remained shocked by the damaged image she presented and quickly stepped away with a pang; unable to observe the face she so often had admired.

Scarlett scanned the room again, curling her fingers up into proud fists that hung by her sides, comforted to see it much as she had left it just over 24 hours ago. So much else had changed since then! Scarlett rotated at the center of the floor and directed herself to the door on the west side of the room. She hesitantly held her hand over the doorknob; then turned the handle. As she expected, this door led to a short, narrow passageway that contained built-in wall dressers facing each other. This had been extra storage for their clothing and belongings, and she and Rhett continued to share the space in their separation. Scarlett moved past the dressers and through the open door into another bedroom situated at the front of the house, her eyes scanning it from corner to corner, noting the orderly bed, bookcases, and desk. This was Rhett’s bedroom.

“Looking for something?” Dylan asked, taking his place next to Scarlett and noting a hint of distress in her demeanor.

“Someone,” Scarlett answered quietly, her eyes briefly noting that Bonnie’s small bed was absent.

Then, she looked to the open door leading into the hall and swiftly exited the room. Her petite, slipper-covered feet carried her down the carpeted hall. Once she reached the furthest door on the south side near the stairs, she burst into the room. Her heart sank to her stomach when she discovered the empty playroom.

“Nothing. No one,” she said to herself, dejected.

She didn’t take the time to examine the various children’s books, dolls, games, and puzzles displayed in the room, but did pause to briefly gaze at an enormous dollhouse in the corner of the room that must have been larger than the size of Ella and Bonnie combined. Scarlett stepped towards the door in the center of the west wall, grasping at her rib and stomach, knowing she was unwisely pressing herself further than she should. Dylan followed her as she made her way to the next room. She turned the doorknob of the nursery door mournfully, and weakly pushed the door open, staring into another lifeless room. Scarlett listlessly made her way through the nursery and exited the hallway door. She moved toward the hall’s arching windows, past a guest room, and to a set of open-backed walnut side chairs. Reaching down gingerly, Scarlett brushed aside a piece of paper attached to a thin rope that had been draped across the chair and sat down.

Dylan cleared his throat and asked, “Did you read the sign?”

Scarlett retrieved it from where it hung to her right side and read: _Please do not sit._

“It’s my chair, isn’t it?” Scarlett stated with irritation, bluntly informing Dylan, in her way, that she was allowed to do anything she like in her own home.

Dylan broke into amused laughter at the comment and the sight of Scarlett’s pouting lips.

“All right, do I have permission from the mistress of the house to take the seat beside her?” he asked.

“Do what you please,” Scarlett replied gloomily in the faint glow of daylight from the windows behind her.

“You might forgive me for breaking this, but I don’t know if the History Center would. Repairs will be coming out of my paycheck,” Dylan joked as he carefully lowered himself onto the antique chair. Once he was settled, Dylan asked with solemnity, “It was your husband you were looking for, then?”

Scarlett nodded her head subtly before bringing the back of her hand to her warm forehead and clearing her dry throat.

“Somehow, I thought he’d be here. He was the last person who was in my presence,” she explained despondently, dropping her arm to her side. “It just feels so…empty,” she sighed, referring to the house, as she blankly scanned the hall with her eyes and breathed in the faint musty scent of the air, a signal that the home had been closed up and unoccupied for some time.

Silence filled the space as they both reflected on this truth. No matter the fact that the house still survived, that many of Scarlett’s beloved belongings still remained, it did not mean as much when the life had been removed from it. Sadly, it almost felt like a tomb, sealed off to preserve a distant memory of a time long gone. Scarlett’s additional sigh broke the silence.

“Well, I think you’re in need of some rest,” Dylan started. “I’m sorry we couldn’t bring you to a residence right away, but we need to decide where you’re going to stay while we figure this out.”

“How did I get here?” Scarlett nearly interrupted with resigned curiosity. “Can you explain to me what’s become of my home? You never told me what you’re doing here. You said no one lives here presently.”

“Your second question is much easier to answer,” Dylan began with ease. “This is the site of the newly established Atlanta Irish Institute. I am the director and site manager and I’ve been working on this project for the last three months, though it’s been in the planning stages for longer than that. We have dual missions here: one current, one historical. The Institute has been set up to serve as a gathering place for people to share in the themes of tradition, migration, craft, arts, and language of the Irish people, many who immigrated here to Georgia. We hope it will be a good resource for Irish-Americans from all over the country. We possess substantial collections here in the library and hope to continue to add to them. Classes, lectures, and events are in the works,” he said in introduction. “We also hope to share the history of a prominent Irish-American who found much success in Atlanta.”

“Who’s that?” Scarlett asked with minimal interest as she looked to the second flight of stairs down the hall, wondering if her ballroom remained.

“You, of course,” Dylan replied with a laugh.

Scarlett’s eyes widened and finally focused on Dylan.

“Me?” she questioned with astonishment.

“You’re a great example of a person of Irish descent who found success in America. We also provide some focus on your immigrant father.”

“Pa?” Scarlett said with a glint in her eyes.

“You both are valuable illustrations of the American success story,” Dylan praised. “It must run in the genes…the DNA,” he specified, knowing this would make some sense to Scarlett now.

At this, Scarlett’s smile returned with a sense of pride. She had always been much too busy and concerned about money to really take stock in all she had accomplished, but Scarlett had been eternally proud of her father’s success. To be celebrated for their achievements, and to share this with her father, was extremely pleasing.

“So, people come here to learn about our lives and see the home I built?” Scarlett asked.

“Yes, people even pay good money to come see it,” Dylan said appealingly.

Scarlett’s eyes lit up even more at the mention of money. Her dimples showed as she smirked at the thought that she was even earning money long after she would have been in the grave.

“I find there’s a segment of the population out there that are very interested in the past and how their ancestors may have lived. And of course there are the architecture enthusiasts. I just hope visitors get something out of the Irish cultural aspect as well–as it is our main purpose. We’re trying to make a go of it in partnership with the Atlanta History Center and, thankfully, we have many prosperous donors,” Dylan explained.

“I certainly hope it’s a success, as well,” Scarlett stated. “Will they tear the house down if it fails?” she asked with serious concern, picturing a new building on this site that shared its upper floors with the clouds.

“No. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places. It should survive for generations to come,” Dylan answered positively.

“Good,” Scarlett said with a smile.

“As to the other question of how you jumped from eighteen seventy-one to two thousand eleven; my wife might be able to answer this question better than myself. She’s the one with the scientific mind. Maybe Mr. Einstein will give her some clues. Car’s actually here to meet you.”

“Car?” Scarlett repeated.

“Yeah, Carolyn, my wife.” Dylan chuckled. “I have a tendency to shorten people’s names. Scold me if I start to call you Scar. You’re definitely not a character in _The Lion King_. Carolyn has decided to pretend I’m saying _cara_ , though–which maybe I should. But it just doesn’t sound as good coming from an Irishman as from a suave Italian.”

“Carolyn,” Scarlett repeated. “That reminds me of my youngest sister’s name,” Scarlett reminisced at the similarity. “She was named Caroline Irene. But we called her Careen.”

It had been a long time since Scarlett had seen or even thought about her favorite sister, and Careen felt infinitely distant to her now.

“Yep, I think I ran across her name. Became a sister in the religious sense,” Dylan recalled.

Scarlett nodded, “Yes, in Charleston.”

“Well, my Carolyn is here to meet with you. I thought she could help with this time-travel business. Also, I suggested you come to stay with us.”

“Oh?” Scarlett was pleasantly surprised by this news.

Scarlett thought it would be very agreeable to stay with Dylan Connolly until she could find her way home. Although, she hoped his wife was as equally welcoming as he.

“However, she gave me hell last night for suggesting it,” Dylan stated.

“Oh,” Scarlett reacted, her spirit dropping in confused disappointment.

“Carolyn’s the most amazing woman, but she is very cautious and quite skeptical at times. I have to admire that quality, considering I lack it a wee bit too often–such as now. I know it infuriates her. But I completely understand her point of view,” Dylan explained. “After all, you are a stranger. She knows next-to-nothing about you. And of course, this time-travel scenario is a bit mad. It’s highly unlikely that you would truly be who you claim to be. It’s not everyday that we meet a visitor from the past or future.”

Scarlett couldn’t help but agree with Carolyn’s suspicions. While she hoped they would take her in, Scarlett had to admit she would not do the same if she were in this position and Rhett wanted to bring in a complete stranger claiming to be someone such as his dead pirate grandfather. Such a man, certainly a charlatan, would not be allowed to set foot in her home.  

“Car’s the only person outside our small circle that we’ve told about you. We’re going to keep it under wraps until we get confirmation on your identity. Maybe then, Carolyn will believe you’re Scarlett Butler. But, don’t worry, she’ll take you in,” Dylan said confidently. “I have a way of wearing down her reserve with my charm,” he joked with a self-deprecating wink. “And not to boast, but I’ve proven her wrong ninety-five percent of the time. I’m sure you’ll fall into that category. But you’ll need to make a good impression and be on your best behavior,” Dylan suggested. “Oh, and can I have you swear that you’re not an ax murderer?”

“An ax murderer!” Scarlett exclaimed. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, slicing and dicing us up in our sleep. Yes, I have to think of the safety of my wife and children, after all. Raise your right hand.  Do you have a Bible lying around here you can swear upon?” he asked, pivoting his head while he pretended to look around his chair. “Maybe you hid one behind one of the walls.”

“I highly doubt it,” Scarlett answered, enlightened on Dylan’s little joke, as she glanced at him sideways.

“Oh, well, I figure if you admitted murder to James and myself yesterday, you’re probably all right,” Dylan commented.

“Well, he was a Yankee! And he was going to hurt me!” Scarlett stressed, not waiting to take in the last part of Dylan’s statement, regretting her confession at the hospital.

“Yes, yes, all the conventional rules get set aside during a war… Look, you admitted it to us. You were honest. I totally understand the situation. Clearly it was done in self-defense. A truly sinister person would try to hide that fact from others, don’t you think?” Dylan asked, attempting to smooth Scarlett’s ruffled feathers.

“So, you mean, you don’t think badly of me?” Scarlett asked, her temper immediately dampened.

Dylan shook his head. “Nope, you’re OK in my book.”

“Does that mean you think I’m decent?” Scarlett asked for clarification.

Dylan nodded his head in confirmation.

Scarlett smiled charmingly and pressed her left hand against the wall, raising her right hand in jest. “I swear upon the home I hold so dear that I am not an ax murderer, nor any other sort. I think that’s sufficient.”

“Good, now that we have that taken care of…” Dylan said, holding a charismatic smile. “Shall we go meet Carolyn?” he asked, gently rising from the chair and replacing the _do not sit_ sign on it. “I’ll introduce you to Liv and Aidan, too.”

Scarlett took Dylan’s hand and rose from her chair, draping her sign back over the cushion. Fatigue was setting in quickly and Scarlett wondered how much longer her body could function without sleep. Her eyes focused down the hall to her bedroom door picturing the heavenly bed that lay concealed behind it.

As she and Dylan gently walked the hall arm in arm, Scarlett asked, “Why is this house still standing when all the others are gone? They were almost as fine–like the Leyden place?”

“I must tell you right off, we’ve agreed that we’re going to keep from you most of the details that pertain to your life after your accident since, in your mind, they haven’t occurred yet. Best not to interfere with the fates at this time,” Dylan explained. “But we agreed to tell you this much: you have your son to thank for your home still existing in this metropolis. Apparently the other families didn’t possess such resolve in their descendants–or I suppose they may have needed the money and sold their property,” Dylan reasoned.

“Wade! Do you mean Wade kept it standing?” Scarlett asked, incredulously, halting before the stairs.

“His wishes were written in his will that the heir would not sell the home and he left an endowment specifically intended for the maintenance of the house. Luckily, his descendants had the same reverence for you and this property, and honored its preservation. Eventually, they were able to set it up with the historic registry and donate it to the Atlanta History Center. We’re fortunate to have found a home here,” Dylan said, indicating the Irish cultural center.

Scarlett was astonished that Wade had had such devotion to this house. He never seemed to find much to like about it from the very start–nothing but the stag and mastiff statues, which remained in the yard. Although, truthfully, she had never really attempted to discover what Wade’s interests were. Normally, she was too busy to find out, and when she did ask, he wriggled with embarrassment and usually was unable to speak or give her a clear-cut answer. But this house–this most beloved home–meant something to him, too? Certainly he or his descendants would have secured great financial gain by selling the property.

“Wade,” Scarlett repeated with a tender smile and a shake of the head as she gripped the banister with her left hand and began their descent. So, she had Wade to thank for preserving what she’d loved so dearly! 

*         *         * 

Dylan led Scarlett through the expansive hall toward the dining room. As they approached the wide doorway, Scarlett caught the sound of a child’s voice. It was a bubbly girl’s voice that could have easily belonged to Ella or Bonnie. Scarlett broke away from Dylan, increasing the speed of her steps and reaching the doorway first. She looked beyond the four adults gathered at the end of the table, to the alcove. There, in the bright southern light, a girl sat holding a book with one hand and a plush creature in the crook of her opposite arm.

Catching a glimpse of reddish hair, Scarlett was certain it was Ella. She wanted to run to her, but rapidly felt weak and light-headed and had to grasp the doorframe in order to stabilize herself. Thankfully, Dylan was by her side supporting her. James also got up from the table and joined them, helping Scarlett walk into the room.

“I’m sorry that we’re overwhelming you, Scarlett,” Dylan apologized quietly as they approached the table.

Scarlett shook her head in response, contradicting his appraisal.

A stunning woman stood up from the chair Rhett normally occupied and stepped to the side of the table blocking Scarlett’s view of the girl. This was the woman Scarlett had briefly observed in the photograph yesterday: Dylan’s wife. She had a slim, five-foot-seven frame and, to Scarlett, her appearance was very refreshing. She was wearing a simple, solid red sheath dress that had a high neckline to her collarbone and a hem that came to her knees. Her straight blonde hair grazed her bare shoulders.

“Hi, I’m Carolyn Jensen. I’m Dylan’s wife,” she said in greeting, holding her hand out to Scarlett.

As Scarlett gave Carolyn her hand, Carolyn flashed her perfect white teeth in a smile and her blue half-moon eyes sparkled.

“You must be Scarlett.”

Scarlett nodded tiredly, craning her neck to see beyond Carolyn, still holding out hope that Ella was playing in the alcove. Dylan noticed that Scarlett’s attention remained distracted and he walked over to pick up the curly-haired four-year old from the floor.

“Scarlett, this is our daughter, Olivia,” he introduced. “Liv, this is Scarlett. Say ‘hi’.”

“Hi,” Olivia whispered before shyly pressing her face into her father’s neck.

Scarlett forced a pleasant smile in response, her hopes dashed. She really was alone on this strange journey.

“Olivia,” Scarlett repeated to Carolyn. “She reminds me of my daughter, Ella. Only Ella’s hair is darker,” Scarlett explained, nervously placing her hand against her own black hair.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” another blonde woman offered.

She pulled out a chair adjacent to the one Carolyn had occupied.

“Do you remember me?” she asked. “My name’s Jennifer Nolan. I was here yesterday morning.” Scarlett nodded in recognition as she took a seat. “I’m the program coordinator at the Institute,” she explained. “Here, I have some gingersnap cookies for you,” she said, pushing a plate in front of Scarlett. “In case you’re hungry or need to boost your blood sugar. You’re looking pale. Would you like water or iced tea?” she asked kindly.

“Tea, please,” Scarlett answered, lifting a cookie from the plate.

After a few bites, some of Scarlett’s dizziness subsided. She was able to focus across the table and notice Peggy holding a drooling baby.

“This is Aidan Connolly,” Peggy explained in response to Scarlett’s brief interest.

Scarlett nodded, acknowledging both Dylan, who had taken a seat next to Peggy, and Carolyn, who had resumed her position at the head of the table. To Scarlett’s left, Jennifer and James situated themselves. The dining room filled with silence from all but Olivia, who had resumed telling a story to her gray stuffed elephant in the alcove.

“I’m very sorry about your accident,” Carolyn said, breaking the peace. “I know how difficult it can be,” she sympathized soothingly. “What you need now is lots of rest. I’m sorry for putting you through all this before finding you a bed, but Dylan sprung this idea on me late last night. He thinks it might be best if you stay with us, but you understand my hesitation?”

“Of course,” Scarlett agreed lethargically. Scarlett silently scolded herself. How upsetting it was for her fatigue to take over at this point; now when she needed all the energy she could conjure up to impress this woman. She took a sip of the tea, hoping this would invigorate her. “I really do understand.”

“But it makes sense, in a way, because I’m currently available twenty-four-seven. Everyone else here has additional commitments that would take them away from their homes, where you would be recovering. So, you see my dilemma,” Carolyn explained. “It really would be the best situation for you, but I have no idea who you are.”

With this, Carolyn began asking some probing questions about Scarlett’s past and the accident, and Scarlett maintained her senses well enough to answer truthfully. James, Peggy, Dylan and Jennifer aided Scarlett as they offered their rational opinions in favor of Scarlett’s self-proclaimed identity. It seemed the four of them agreed that she was Scarlett Butler, daughter of Gerald O’Hara. This relieved Scarlett greatly. However, when it came to explaining how Scarlett had arrived in 2011, they were speechless.

This is where Carolyn’s knowledge was fundamental. She explained to Scarlett that while her training was in geology, she did have some exposure to quantum mechanics. Scarlett’s expression must have revealed her confusion, because Carolyn expanded on the theories that may have explained Scarlett’s journey to 2011. While this did not help much in Scarlett’s understanding, considering her lack of imagination or knowledge, Carolyn attempted to educate. It did seem that Carolyn believed what had happened to Scarlett was actually possible. Carolyn explained that mathematics has shown that time travel theories were likely, but scientists haven’t been able to provide concrete proof of it yet.

Carolyn spoke of the time-space connection from Einstein’s theory of relativity and gave an example of how time slows down ever so slightly for people who fly in airplanes. She explained that if a rocket in space could find a black hole and get close enough to pick up incredible speed, then return to earth, the occupants would remain young but would have traveled far into the future. But Scarlett certainly hadn’t been on a rocket ship, so they could throw out this possibility. Scarlett’s head was already swimming with the mention of airplanes, black holes, and ships that traveled beyond earth.

Then, Carolyn went on to explain the wild theory of wormholes–and not the kind found in an apple. They were space tunnels that would link today with a different time and place. These could be shortcuts that allowed people to travel into the future or into the past in short amounts of time.

Carolyn stood up and suggested, “Let’s go to the scene of the accident. Are you all right to walk to the hall?” she asked Scarlett.

“Yes, I can walk.”

Carolyn offered her assistance, pulling the chair out of Scarlett’s way. Before stepping away from the table, Scarlett took a long drink of the chilled, bitter tea. Dylan gathered Olivia up in his arms and Peggy carried Aidan out with her. Carolyn remained by Scarlett’s side as they made their way out into the hall and to the bottom of the stairs, until James took her place.

Carolyn stepped to the foot of the stairs and questioned the group whether this could have been the site of a wormhole. She was quite skeptical and cited the fact that Scarlett couldn’t possibly have picked up enough speed to make this a reality. Could she really have defied the laws of physics in that moment? Scarlett gazed up the flight of stairs where she had lost herself yesterday. Could an invisible tunnel, located right here, really have carried her to 2011? All of this sounded very far-fetched, but she supposed it was no stranger than her presence here now. Everyone who was gathered around Carolyn seemed very intrigued by her theory of how Scarlett arrived here and she appeared to have great authority over the subject.

She questioned Scarlett about where she had been when she had lost her balance and what she’d felt as her body was flung down the steps. Scarlett was able to point to where she had slipped, but really couldn’t remember any unexpected feelings during her tumble. Shock and powerlessness were all she could recall. It hadn’t felt as if she’d crossed through a tunnel. It had all been a painful, frightening blur, but she never once suspected she’d left 1871.

And there was another sticking point for this theory, Carolyn explained. Jennifer had spent the morning, and evening before, looking through historical papers and found no evidence that Scarlett had ever really disappeared in July of 1871. If a prominent woman had gone missing, even in 1871, certainly there should have been some sort of newspaper article on the subject. Scarlett asked if maybe she hadn’t gone missing, but had died, as she had originally thought yesterday morning. Jennifer struck this theory down, explaining that Scarlett’s original death record had not changed.

Because of this, Carolyn brought up equally controversial theories of parallel universes and many-worlds. The former stated that there were infinite universes and that each of those universes contained a copy of everyone in this room and everyone on Earth. Carolyn then talked about a hypothetical experiment with someone’s cat, which was both alive and dead at the same time on different branches of the universe. Since every human was made up of atoms, just as this cat was, it was not out of the realm of possibility that a single human could exist in multiple states or be in more than one place at the same time.

At this, not only was Scarlett’s head spinning, but looking to the others in the hall, she could tell that now everyone was puzzled. She suppressed a giggle as she noted Dylan’s twisted expression, looking more clueless than his young son in Peggy’s arms. Scarlett returned her attention to Carolyn, wishing she’d explain a solution instead of confusing them all with her strange conjectures.

“So, how does this help me get back?” Scarlett asked with frustration.

“It doesn’t,” Carolyn answered frankly. “Most of what I just talked about has never been proven. We do know for a fact that time slows down as we speed up, but scientists are still working on the rest. James said you already reversed your journey by walking up the stairs and you didn’t pass back to eighteen seventy-one, so I really have no idea,” she said with a helpless laugh.

Scarlett frowned.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make light of your situation, but I’m pretty sure this hasn’t been observed before. I’m anxious for your genetic test results to see if there’s really a connection. Physically, you look exactly like the Scarlett Butler I’ve seen in the photographs. I will give you that. Either you are Scarlett Butler or you’re a woman with amnesia who coincidentally resembles her. A descendant or relative, possibly,” Carolyn stated as Aidan began to cry. “I’ll make some initial contact with physicists I know, but I don’t know how far I can push my questions without raising suspicions. You’ll need to stay out of the spotlight so you can heal without any madness surrounding you,” she stressed as she relieved Peggy of the wailing Aidan. “We’ll do some research and see if we can come up with anything.”

Carolyn swayed and danced lightly on her feet in an attempt to calm her son.

“Some physicists believe that all that has been or ever will be exists right now on some flat plane. If that’s true, there must be a path for you to reach home again,” Carolyn offered in consolation.

Carolyn’s eyes met Dylan’s for a few moments of silent communication. She yielded a generous, but resigned, smile to her husband and returned her attention to Scarlett.

“For now, our home will be your home.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

## Part One

 

### Chapter 5 

Marietta. That was to be the setting for Scarlett’s convalescence. Scarlett thought it an appropriate location for her recovery, as she knew it to be a fine destination for the restoration of one’s strength and spirit. The thought somehow slipped her mind that a visit to Tara could have given the same result. All Scarlett craved was a long and peaceful rest. She thought all that was left to endure was a train ride to transport her to Dylan and Carolyn’s home, but Carolyn informed her that it should take less than thirty minutes to reach Marietta with her personal vehicle. Scarlett thought that a very positive improvement over 1871, for her carriage, or even the train, would have taken longer.

Scarlett was offered the seat next to Carolyn, while the children were both buckled into smaller seats in the rear. This time around, Scarlett felt the seat belt was more appropriate for her protection as they entered onto an expansive road with lanes and lanes of other vehicles sandwiched between tall concrete walls. The vehicle seemingly sped as fast or faster than any train Scarlett had ever ridden. Scarlett continued to notice signs on overhead bridges that read “75 North”, which also listed places like Marietta and Chattanooga. The taller buildings of downtown Atlanta became far and few between as the car transported them further away from the city. Eventually, the concrete walls fell, giving way to views of the tree-lined interstate. Then, Scarlett began to notice new signs for Greenville and Birmingham as they approached the Chattahoochee River.

As interesting as the sights of this new world were to Scarlett, her fatigue began to take over with aid from the smooth, swaying motion of the Forester–the name Scarlett had read on the back of the vehicle. Soon, her eyes were closed and she drifted into the first sleep she had experienced in many hours. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Scarlett was jolted awake by the sound of Olivia shouting, “Chicken! Chicken!” Carolyn hushed her daughter, reminding Olivia that their guest was trying to rest. Scarlett briefly caught sight of a building outside her window that in fact looked like the representation of a chicken’s head. She asked Carolyn if they indeed sold chicken out of that building and her theory was confirmed. Scarlett consequently wondered to herself if pork was now sold out of a building shaped like a hog and beef out of one resembling a cow.

Carolyn frustratingly remembered, as they continued the drive, that she still needed to get Scarlett’s prescriptions filled, and apologized to Scarlett for the necessity to make one more stop. Carolyn promised she’d make it up to her once Scarlett was better, and take her to one of Carolyn’s favorite temptations on Marietta Square, whether the preference was ice cream or pastries. Not long after Carolyn’s offer, the vehicle passed the charming Marietta Square, itself, and Scarlett smiled at the pleasant sight. After all the madness and rush of this modern society, a view of a simple gazebo situated in this peaceful green space soothed Scarlett’s nerves.  

Soon after passing the square, they arrived at the pharmacy and Carolyn proceeded to unbuckle her two children from their car seats, requesting that Scarlett stay put. Even if Scarlett wanted to have her first experience in a modern drug store, her body wouldn’t have allowed it. So, she drowsily sat and watched as Carolyn hauled Aidan in one arm while simultaneously holding her daughter’s hand as they made their way to the door of the pharmacy and disappeared inside it. Scarlett’s bleary eyes fell shut and her head rolled to lean against the cool passenger door window.

When Carolyn returned, the boom of the car door shutting woke Scarlett from her quarter hour’s sleep. She looked back and saw that Aidan had already been buckled into his special seat. Carolyn was now working with the straps to restrain Olivia. Seeing what a burden two young children were on one woman, Scarlett helpfully, and groggily, suggested that Carolyn find a mammy if she didn’t have one already. Carolyn silently focused on Scarlett for several moments with a quizzical look on her face and then disappeared as she closed the door next to Olivia. As Carolyn took the driver’s seat she approached the topic, asking if Scarlett used the term ‘mammy’ often. Scarlett, of course, thought nothing of mentioning this important servant’s position. Carolyn admitted she didn’t have much experience with today’s Southern culture, but advised that perhaps Scarlett might not want to use this term in 2011. Although, Carolyn did admit to Scarlett that there were days when she’d give anything for a _nanny_.

*              *              *

“How is she?” Dylan asked as Carolyn entered their bedroom that evening.

“She’s medicated and sleeping soundly,” Carolyn answered. “And so far, no signs of abnormal bleeding. Although, I think her fever is up a bit. The meds should help take care of that.”

Carolyn carried a plastic bag over to her dresser and crouched down in front of it. Dylan watched silently from the bed as she pulled out a drawer and lifted up a stack of long-sleeved shirts. She placed the bag at the bottom of the drawer and replaced the shirts before sliding the compartment back to its original position.

“Thanks for doing this,” Dylan offered as Carolyn rose to a standing position.

Carolyn shook her head, wearing an amused, but resigned expression.

“You owe me big time for this,” she responded as she pulled out her pajamas from a higher drawer. Carolyn walked into the master bathroom and flipped on the light, partially closing the door. By the time Carolyn exited in a black tank top and tiny boxers, Dylan had his hands on the bag she had hidden minutes before.

“Really, we’re hiding our knives now, are we?” Dylan accused after his discovery.

Carolyn huffed an irritated sigh, tossed her clothes over the back of a chair, and silently jutted out her chin, widening her eyes, asking Dylan, wordlessly, if he really were that clueless.

“She’s not going to murder us in our sleep, Car. Do you really think she’s even physically capable right now? The pain medication’s probably knocked her out,” Dylan continued.

“Look, why’s this such an issue? She doesn’t have to know that I’ve hidden them,” Carolyn explained, holding her right hand to her chest. “I’m trying not to exhibit my suspicions around her. But our daughter’s in the next room and a strange woman is sleeping in the spare room in the basement,” Carolyn expressed, using her hands to emphasize the locations. “Why chance anything? All I did was hide some knives away. I didn’t lock this Scarlett out and make her sleep in the backyard,” Carolyn justified in a loud whisper, trying not to wake her son sleeping in the crib in the corner of the room.

After a few silent moments between them, Carolyn took a deep, calming breath. She gently lifted the plastic grocery bag from Dylan’s hands and returned the knives to their hiding place. When she rose, she placed her hand on the exterior of her husband’s upper arm and rubbed it soothingly with her thumb. Dylan dropped his head in resignation, disappointment in his countenance. Carolyn rose on her toes and kissed his lips briefly and then circled her arms around his neck as he bent down and clasped his arms around her slender frame.

“Just for now. Just so I can have time to get to know her. You know I’m not heartless,” she stated, locking her blue eyes with his. “All I’m asking for is your patience.”

Patience. Dylan was willing to give this to his wife. He understood her precaution, but he also wished she had a bit more empathy for Scarlett. Even if she didn’t treat Scarlett like a criminal to her face, Dylan worried that Carolyn’s attitude would seep into her interactions with this woman from the past. He didn’t want his family to add more stress to an already incomprehensible situation for Scarlett, having been ripped from her own family. He couldn’t imagine being torn from Carolyn and his children. Dylan was surprised at how well Scarlett seemed to be handling the circumstances, but did acknowledge that she had survived all her previous life’s trials. There must have been something innate in her character to battle through such tragedies in life. Dylan supposed that something like that is not easily learned.

In the end, having the knives hidden was a helpful action on Carolyn’s part, if only because it removed something from their list of things to worry over. That night, neither Dylan nor Carolyn slept for more than a few minutes, struggling with their concerns over the situation in which they found themselves. Dylan took to pulling the bedcovers on and kicking them off throughout the night, despite the constant, air-conditioned climate. And Dylan was irritated by Carolyn’s pattern of flipping from her left to her right side every fifteen minutes. Beyond that, she would rise to peek out the bedroom door at the slightest sound and would check on Olivia and Scarlett, hourly. This night, it wasn’t their son, Aidan, keeping them up, but a bruised, frightened 26-year-old woman asleep in their spare bedroom. Dylan didn’t doubt their guest was in a deep slumber after her experiences of the last 40 hours.

Scarlett had remained unconscious throughout most of the night. However, Carolyn just missed hearing, between two earlier visits that evening, a few names from Scarlett’s life: _Melly_ and _Rhett_.

As Scarlett drifted to sleep, images were activated in her mind. She found herself in her own bed in her house on Peachtree Street and Melanie Wilkes was by her side, her cool hands holding on to Scarlett’s tight, frightened grasp. Scarlett sensed that she was suddenly more ill than she had felt at the time when she drifted to sleep. It seemed as if her condition was worsening and this concerned her. Hadn’t she received excellent care at the hospital, care that had saved her life? Everyone had told her she was well on the mend and would see improvements daily. This discomfort presented Scarlett with a sense of defeat and she found herself chilled to the bone while beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Then, Scarlett could feel the strength from Melanie seep into her veins like the warmth from several glasses of brandy. She was not aware of the fact that her strong pain medication could have a similar effect. Scarlett turned her head to face Melanie and asked for Rhett. She couldn’t think of why she wanted Rhett, she just knew she needed him by her side. But it was as if Melanie couldn’t hear her, and she just continued caressing Scarlett’s hand and staring at her lovingly, silently comforting her. Scarlett’s agitation over Melanie’s disregard to her requests was quelled as the pain medication took full effect and Melanie’s image dissolved like a low-hanging cloud on a foggy morning when the sun finally broke through.

Carolyn heard one of the names the next morning as she eased Scarlett awake, in between yawns, in order to assist Scarlett to the bathroom and provide another dose of medication. Immediately she asked Scarlett about the _Melly_ she had been asking for and what the connection was between them. Scarlett tried to explain, in her groggy state, about her sister-in-law from her first marriage. She swore to Carolyn that Melanie had been with her in the night and had been soothing her in the darkness. However, Scarlett agreed that it must have been a dream. It was difficult to tell dreams from reality now that her reality was something she once only could have imagined. Modern life was something that would be slowly introduced to Scarlett over the next few weeks of her recovery.

At the end of Scarlett’s first 24 hours of residence with Dylan and Carolyn, Dylan presented Scarlett with an electric fan when he returned home from his workday on that rainy afternoon, his hair and pale blue dress shirt darkened with moisture. He placed the black fan on the nightstand, plugged it into the wall, and aimed it at Scarlett. A minor fever had been hanging on throughout the day, and when Dylan pressed a button on the fan’s base, the three plastic blades began to spin and a satisfying breeze blew toward Scarlett’s head, cooling her pale cheeks and forehead. She decided, as she turned her head to envelop herself in the wind, that there must be objects like this in heaven because the feeling was miraculous. If only she’d had access to electricity in her previous life!

For the first few days, Scarlett could barely scrounge up enough energy for anything but sleep. Whether it was her illness or the pain medication that made her head spin and brought on nausea, she had a difficult time leaving the comfort of the firm bed. Scarlett found it challenging to keep much food down initially, which led Carolyn to put an end to the distribution of the prescription pain pills. She opted for an over-the-counter, anti-inflammatory drug that Scarlett tolerated much better, and with that, her appetite steadily returned.

Dr. Meade had always insisted that Scarlett should remain in bed for weeks after giving birth, yet Carolyn encouraged Scarlett to start moving around as soon as she was physically able. Apparently, it was unhealthy and potentially harmful to remain in one position for very long. That meant climbing the stairs to join Carolyn, Olivia, and Aidan during the day, and gathering with the entire family for supper around a crowded table in the evening. Dylan helped set up an area on a sofa for Scarlett to lounge when she became fatigued, and she found it a nice perch to observe the family and their interactions.

The first evening she joined the family for dinner, Scarlett listened as Dylan and Carolyn briefly, and somberly, discussed some tragedy in a country she had not heard of before. Scarlett wondered if Carolyn was from that country, as it seemed to affect her personally. It took Scarlett several days to pinpoint where she had heard a voice dialect similar to Carolyn’s before. She finally recalled a voice she had heard in her store; it had emanated from the wife of a Yankee officer. This woman had started up a dialogue with Scarlett about a piece of fabric she was interested in, and at some point mentioned that her family had emigrated from Sweden when she was young.

The next day, while Scarlett watched Carolyn help Olivia arrange large puzzle pieces onto a board to finish an image of an orange and brown cartoon giraffe, she asked Carolyn if she had come from Sweden. Carolyn explained that two of her great-grandparents were born there, but that she was from Minnesota. And, smiling, Carolyn said, “I keep forgetting that I’m the one with the weird accent here. Hopefully people don’t think I sound like Marge from _Fargo_. That portrayal was an exaggeration, don’t ya knooow?” Carolyn concluded, humorously duplicating Frances McDormand’s voice in character. Scarlett responded with a blank expression, clearly not catching the reference.

Carolyn had to explain to Scarlett that _Fargo_ was a movie, and then when questioned further, had to define the term itself. She then lifted an object sitting on the table next to Scarlett’s sofa and aimed it at a black panel. A moment later, the object began to glow with color and movement, while sound filled in room in sync with the motion. Scarlett was soon educated on television and how one could watch programs, news, and even movies on it. What an entertaining invention!

That evening, Scarlett joined the Connolly family for her first television program, which she disappointedly found out was about the lives of Abraham and Mary Lincoln. Included in this program was a segment on Gettysburg: a tragic event in Scarlett’s life. As she learned of the President’s joy over the victory at Gettysburg, she couldn’t help but think of Dallas McClure, Darcy Meade, LaFayette Munroe, and especially Raif Calvert, Joe Fontaine, and the Tarletons: Tom, and her dear Stuart and Brent. Such wasted lives… Scarlett stood, having seen just over a quarter of the program, and with a crack in her voice, excused herself claiming fatigue, withdrew to her bedroom, and allowed her tears to soak into her pillow. It wasn’t the first time she had found herself weeping in recent days.

When Scarlett spent time with Olivia, she didn’t now immediately think of Ella, but of Wade instead. Olivia’s shyness was very similar to Wade’s in that the little girl had very little to say to Scarlett, whispered if she needed to communicate something, and avoided Scarlett in general. Of course, having a strange, quiet, bruised woman suddenly sharing a home with you and your parents may lead to some apprehension. Scarlett didn’t initially reason this out and decided that it was true, most children were afraid of her, and this cemented the theory.

These thoughts turned her mind to her darling Bonnie–at least Bonnie loved her and wasn’t anxious around her. Scarlett would watch as Carolyn dressed Olivia up in tulle, feather boas, and old scarves for play, and was reminded that not long ago, she had presented Bonnie with a replica of one of her new hats with which Bonnie seemed fascinated. While Scarlett refused to let Bonnie set hand on her new green-ribboned confection, the next time she went to her milliner, she requested that a copy be created for her black-haired daughter. Scarlett later presented it to Bonnie by placing it on her head, securing it under her square jaw, and carrying her over to a mirror, so they both could admire the reflection. Scarlett wistfully smiled, remembering Bonnie’s squeal of delight as she keenly patted the white satin hat.

It was very peculiar that Scarlett should think of her children much more now that they were not with her. As her fever subsided over the first few days, she had dreamt less and less of Melanie holding her hand as she lay in her sickbed. However, she spent more of her waking hours thinking of her family. Scarlett observed Dylan finding joy in his children and thought of Rhett. She equally saw Wade, Ella, and Bonnie in Olivia. And when she watched interactions between Aidan and his parents, she thought of the baby she had just lost, knowing there would never be a moment like that for her and that child. Once all her responsibilities were stripped away from her, Scarlett finally had the time to reflect on her life. And, surprisingly, she missed nothing more than her family.

Scarlett would sometimes go to bed with these thoughts and wonder if anyone was thinking of her. Did they know she was missing? She vaguely recalled that the blonde woman at her home had said that there was no evidence of her disappearing in July of 1871. Scarlett wondered if her body and soul had split in half, and this part was to remain in a different time for the rest of her life. But then why did she miss Wade, Ella, Bonnie, and even Rhett, despite her recent bitterness toward him? Wouldn’t she feel content that her other half was with them? It wasn’t fair that she was to wander this new world with all her old memories. Late at night, in the silence, she would cry into the spare pillow she hugged to her body, praying that if she were to remain here permanently, that God strike her memory clean of her past. If only He had let her have her baby. Then she could hold onto something from her previous life and she would never be completely alone. While she thought it might become easier with time, she would always feel a pang when remembering what she had left behind.

In her waking hours, Scarlett would hover over Carolyn’s shoulder, watching a computer screen, observing the changes it made as Carolyn typed different letters on the keyboard. Scarlett constantly interrogated Carolyn on what she was doing and if it would help bring her back home to 1871, for her impatience grew with each day. Carolyn kept Scarlett up-to-date on the responses she was receiving from physicists and also showed Scarlett some websites on the subject of time travel, but not much made sense to her uneducated mind. Carolyn highly suspected a wormhole was the conduit that brought Scarlett to this time, but was puzzled as to how she could seemingly be in two places, two time periods at once.

The computer was an entirely new idea introduced to Scarlett and she found it very perplexing that Carolyn could have the whole world at her fingertips, record her words without pen and ink, or even printer’s blocks, and make calculations instantly with no scribbling of a pencil. Think of how much time she could have saved with her store and lumber business bookkeeping had she had a machine such as this! When Carolyn used an object she called a mouse–Scarlett reasoned that if nothing else, it was about the size of the creature–the entire screen could change from one visual to another with one click.

Time travel information was not the only reason Carolyn turned her computer on each day. She spent many of her hours researching and writing scientific papers, currently on the subject of the transport of agricultural soil and its effect on major rivers, which she had been working on during her time as a geology professor up north. Carolyn directed Scarlett to a stack of journals on the coffee table next to Scarlett’s sofa perch. Scarlett didn’t give much of an effort to understand what was inside as she flipped through one very briefly. Titles began with phrases such as “phosphate biomineralization”, “drought-driven transient aquifer compaction”, and “early Cambrian metazoans in fluvial environments.” There was nothing exciting or comprehensible about any of this to Scarlett. It could have been written in Japanese and she wouldn’t have known the difference. And there were very few photographs, except in the front sections. The whole subject was quite dull. The magazines she remembered had interesting things like lady’s fashion and the newest conveniences for one’s home. Carolyn suggested they pick up a Harper’s Bazaar, In Style, or Ladies Home Journal for Scarlett if she had interest in that sort of information.

It would be nice to have some magazines for a distraction, Scarlett thought. In the meantime, Carolyn provided her with some of her puzzle books where Scarlett had to place correct numbers in little boxes, and there was only one way in which the puzzle could be solved. The puzzles became a bit of an obsession for her, and she even took them to bed with her, unable to sleep until she placed the last nine in its correct box. At least this was another challenge beyond her predicament to focus her mind on.

About a week and a half into her stay, Carolyn presented Scarlett with a chance to observe the new world with fresh eyes. Carolyn suggested they take a walk to a local park with the children. Scarlett’s facial bruises had healed significantly and Carolyn offered to apply a cover up to those marks that remained if it would make Scarlett more comfortable being seen in public. Scarlett accepted, looking forward to a change of scenery after being confined to only two or three rooms since her accident.

The previous weekend, Carolyn had left Dylan in charge of Scarlett and the children in order to search out new items of clothing and shoes for Scarlett to wear to supplement the supply provided by Peggy. Scarlett hoped this was the genesis of Carolyn’s belief that her charge was truly a woman of the Victorian age. After taking some of Scarlett’s measurements, the tape measure cinching to just above 20 inches at Scarlett’s waist, Carolyn looked to Scarlett perplexed and said, “It’s as if you’ve been in corset training,” as she noted the slightly unnatural hourglass shape of Scarlett’s body.

Now, Scarlett had access to clothing suitable for the sweltering Georgia summer that actually fit her quite well. The morning of their walk, Carolyn suggested Scarlett try the form-fitting yellow tank top and black shorts, leaving little to the imagination, Scarlett thought with slight unease. When Scarlett looked to herself in the mirror as she weaved her hair into one thick braid, she giggled, thinking she resembled one of the bumblebees that had buzzed in her ears as she lay on the clover-covered lawn of Tara as a child. Her spirits dimmed slightly when she noticed the faint brown bruises on her white legs and arms, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from stepping out into the sunshine. She had never exposed her bare legs in public as an adult, and these shorts only came down to the middle of her thighs.

Carolyn observed Scarlett’s short, fit legs, and offered her the use of her electric razor if she desired. Apparently, men weren’t the only sex to shave in modern times. In no time at all, Scarlett was void of noticeably exposed hair everywhere but her head. Carolyn suggested Scarlett not feel embarrassed by her natural state, and cynically explained that razor companies in the nineteen teens and twenties realized they only were selling to fifty percent of the market. In order to gain the fairer sex, they needed to convince them to shave. Carolyn wondered if the shorter skirts or the razor ad campaigns came first, and decided the manufacturers probably worked in tandem to increase everyone’s profits. Scarlett took note, briefly wondering if she sold anything else in her store that she could market in a similar way to her own advantage.  

The park was not far away, less than a walking mile from Dylan and Carolyn’s rented house. Carolyn and Scarlett set out on foot: Scarlett in her new sneakers. Carolyn pushed Aidan in a stroller and Olivia, helmet on head, took to her pink sixteen-inch bike decorated several places with the head of a white cat with a red bow below one ear. Scarlett noticed two smaller wheels on the sides and learned they were called training wheels. As they walked, Carolyn had to shout out several times, “Liv, don’t get too far ahead of us!” as Olivia enthusiastically peddled in the lead position, strawberry blonde tendrils trailing out from under her helmet.

When they reached what Carolyn informed Scarlett was the playground, she advised Scarlett to take a seat on the nearby bench bathed in shade. Thankful for a moment to rest, Scarlett gave her no argument. She had regained much of her strength and the walk did not strain her terribly, but her rib had caused some difficulty breathing, even in the morning air, which remained heavy with moisture. Carolyn helped Olivia off her bike and took Aidan from the stroller, and asked if Scarlett would watch these items before she stepped onto the woodchips surrounding the inventive play equipment with her children.

Scarlett took in the variety of green slides circling the play area and caught sight of a little boy slipping down the shortest of the slides from the platform in front of her. Some slides had twists in them and some were covered and made to be like a tunnel. If she had been feeling better, it wouldn’t have surprised her if she had given each one a personal try. She had seen nothing like it in her time, and it looked awfully fun to make an easy or challenging climb up steps, poles, and walls to the top of these platforms and speedily hurl yourself down a chosen route. Carolyn stood careful watch over Olivia as she bravely gripped onto poles and railings, attempting to lift herself to another level.

From Scarlett’s right, two boys younger than Wade bounded toward the segment with the largest slide as their father trailed behind them, stopping at the bench where Scarlett was seated. The man’s dog maneuvered its way to Scarlett’s side, sniffing at her knees. She pulled off her sunglasses and smiled down at the beautiful canine, standing only a little shorter than Wade’s St. Bernard, and placed her hand on its soft, furry head. Pet therapy was a subject of which Scarlett was not aware, but her soul was instantly calmed as she stroked and scratched the dog’s head.

“I see Max has made a new friend,” the man said in a kind voice, looking down to Scarlett with a smile. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

Scarlett looked up to find a gentleman holding the dog’s leash, his hair a dustier blond than that of his two towheaded sons, and she smiled in greeting.

“No, of course not. Max, is it? He really is the most darling thing. What breed is he?” Scarlett asked curiously, rubbing the dog behind his ears.

“A Bernese Mountain Dog.”

“A Bernese… I’ll have to remember that. I think my son would like one,” Scarlett said cheerfully, memorizing the appearance: black body, white chest, nose, and paws, rust on the legs and parts of the head. “He already has a St. Bernard. I’d probably regret giving him a second dog, but really, I think I want one of these for myself.”

“Is that your son, there?” the man asked, looking to the brown-haired boy who was plotting a challenge course with Olivia.

“Oh, no, he’s not here,” Scarlett said, staring at the boy who was probably not quite five yet. “I’m here with Carolyn–visiting with Carolyn,” Scarlett attempted to explain, pointing in the direction of the eye-catching blonde.

“Oh, Carolyn Jensen. I know her and Dylan fairly well,” the man said, giving a friendly wave to Carolyn as she focused her attention back at Scarlett. Before the man had a chance to introduce himself, one of his sons called to him while climbing up a twisting slide, and before he walked in their direction, he asked if Scarlett wouldn’t mind holding onto Max’s leash for a few minutes, probably noting the mutual contentment between her and the dog.

“No, I don’t mind. It would be a pleasure,” Scarlett answered, taking the durable leash into her right hand. She bent over as far as her rib would allow her, looked into the dog’s black eyes, and smiled. Again, she scratched behind Max’s ears and said, “Yes, I think Wade would love you very much.” As she ran her hand over the dog’s coat and fluffed up the white fur of his chest, Scarlett’s smile began to fade as she wondered if she would ever again have the chance to present Wade with another dog. Tears trickled down her cheeks, trailing through the concealer makeup. The dog, sensing Scarlett’s distress, nuzzled her thigh and hip and rested his muzzle on her lap. Scarlett bowed her head over the gentle creature.

Carolyn made her way over to the bench after setting a few rules with Olivia. She sat to Scarlett’s left, resting Aidan on her lap.

“No, you can’t take the dog home with you, Scarlett,” she said teasingly as if Scarlett were her third child, soon to beg for a new pet. Then, she noted the wetness beneath Scarlett’s eyes and observed her stooped shoulders. Placing a hand to release the tension in Scarlett’s shoulder, concerned, she asked, “Are you all right?”

It took a few moments for Scarlett to answer, still preoccupied as she methodically stroked the dog’s head.

“I’m not sure what’s wrong with me,” Scarlett answered truthfully. “I can’t stop crying. Every day I’m crying. It’s pitiful,” she said, scolding herself.

“Well, you have been through a lot,” Carolyn said sympathetically, glancing toward her daughter for a moment as Olivia was now making mountains out of woodchips. “It’s very understandable. Your hormones are all out of whack. Do you think you’ve had post-partum depression after the birth of any of your children?” Scarlett could only provide a look of confusion. “Yes, if you’re from the past, you wouldn’t have heard of that term,” Carolyn stated to herself. “Did you find yourself unable to function normally after those births? Did you find it hard to get on with your day-to-day routines…to get out of bed each day? I’m not getting that vibe from you now, but the crying could be a symptom.”

“Mmm,” Scarlett thought, “after Wade, I didn’t feel like myself for a long time.”            

“Was that your first pregnancy?” Carolyn asked, adjusting Aidan on her lap.

“Yes, Wade was my first child. But, I don’t think I felt that way after Ella or Bonnie. I was more like myself after them.”

“Each pregnancy is different. I’m thankful for that. I actually had post-partum depression after Liv was born, but I’ve been doing very well since Aidan joined us. Right now do you feel like you did after Wade was born?”

“Yes, a little, I think,” Scarlett answered. However, she couldn’t quite pinpoint the true reason. In both cases, she had lost all that was familiar to her. Her whole life had changed by the time Wade entered her world. There was no fun to be had in the county, and on top of that, she was a widow. She had been bored and equally bewildered by the fact that she was now a mother. And of course Ashley was married to another woman and seemed so far away he could have been on the other side of the earth. Could she really have blamed her sadness solely on the birth of her baby? And now, did this sadness exclusively stem from the loss of her baby or from the fact that she had been ripped from her family and all that she knew of life?

“What are you thinking about when you find yourself unable to control your emotions?” Carolyn inquired.

Scarlett sighed, continuing to stroke Max’s head resting in her lap. “Usually, I cry when I think of being lost here forever and never seeing my family again. Or, like when Gettysburg was mentioned on that television program… I lost so many friends in that battle…” she started, tears welling up as she looked into Carolyn’s sympathetic blue eyes.

“I’m sorry for suggesting you watch that,” Carolyn apologized. “It was bad timing, I guess. It’s a weekly series Dylan and I have been watching and a new episode was airing that night. And since I had just shown you the TV, I thought you might be interested in seeing how educational it can be.”

Education certainly would not be the primary reason for which Scarlett would choose to watch television, but she was thankful for Carolyn’s thoughtfulness.

“It’s all right,” Scarlett said quickly in forgiveness. “But normally something like that wouldn’t make me cry. I’ve lived through it. It’s in the past. I don’t usually cry at the mention of Joe Fontaine or Stu Tarleton.”

“Who are they?”

“Boys I knew growing up. They died at Gettysburg, you see.”

Carolyn sighed with disappointment in herself.

“Man, what was I thinking?” Carolyn asked. “I’ll make sure to run the subject past you before ever suggesting another program. Maybe we’ll avoid anything having to do with… Remind me, what year were you born?”

“Eighteen forty-four,” Scarlett answered, continuing to bow her head.

“OK, maybe we’ll avoid programs that focus on eighteen forty-four to…hmm. I must be careful to not give away any sort of cutoff date to you,” Carolyn stated, adhering to the pact that they were not to give specifics on Scarlett’s life after her fall. “But let’s just say, I’ll try to run things by you first, before dropping you into that trap again.”

Scarlett nodded her head in agreement.

“So, clearly a big chunk of what’s bringing on these emotions is memories and worries about finding your way home. What about your miscarriage? Are you finding it difficult to move past it?” Carolyn asked with care.

Scarlett shook her head and took a minute before speaking again. “No. It’s terribly…terribly painful, but I can stand it. I think I’m all cried out over that. I can’t change what happened. Were you de– de– sad…?”

“Depressed?” Carolyn said, helping Scarlett with the word.

“Yes, depressed, when you lost your baby?” Scarlett asked. Carolyn had shared with her the first day that they had met, that she too had suffered a miscarriage, between the births of Olivia and Aidan.

“Oh, absolutely, yes,” Carolyn answered. “But that’s the worst I had to deal with at the time. I think because of the miscarriage, your body is dealing with all these changes and on top of it all, you’ve been thrown into an incredible situation. Give it time. Your hormones will level out and maybe then you’ll be able to deal with things without succumbing to tears. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. No one is judging you for crying. Let me tell you, sometimes as women, we’re not in control of our emotions,” Carolyn said with a chuckle. “Some of us have crazy hormone swings. I’m guessing that’s what you’re going through right now on top of everything else.”

“I don’t understand everything you’re saying,” Scarlett honestly disclosed. “What’s a hormone?” she asked hesitantly before being nudged by Max’s wet nose, encouraging her to continue her gentle strokes over his head. Scarlett giggled, returning her attention to the dog and scratching lovingly behind his ears. “Am I neglecting you?”

“There’s so much you haven’t heard of…which either means you’re from a different time or you’ve been locked inside a vault your whole life,” Carolyn stated to herself. “Dylan will be happy to hear that I’m beginning to believe you’re Scarlett Butler, too.”

At this encouraging declaration, Scarlett presented Carolyn with a bright smile, feeling somewhat triumphant.

“I know you don’t want to believe it. If I were you, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I’m glad you’re beginning to. Thank you so much for taking me in,” Scarlett directed to Carolyn genuinely. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, and I know I am one to you.”

“No–” Carolyn began.

“No, I am. I know how occupied you are with the children and your work. It’s hard for you to find a moment for yourself, at least when Dylan’s not around. And now I’m like another of your children, knowing even less of life during these times compared to Olivia, and unable to provide for myself. I don’t know what I would have done without you and Dylan and your kindness. I would be forever lost,” Scarlett truthfully determined, showing more appreciation now than she probably had throughout her previous life.

“Well, thank Dylan, then,” Carolyn teased. “As you recall, I didn’t want to have anything to do with this situation.”

Scarlett smiled and nodded her head.

“I wouldn’t have either,” Scarlett answered candidly, watching Carolyn adjust Aidan’s brown socks.

“I think you’re all right, Scarlett,” Carolyn said confidently, returning her attention to Scarlett’s brightening green eyes. “But, to be sure, we’ll determine soon enough who you are through science. In the meantime, I’ll be happy to educate you on anything you wish. Just ask. If you are indeed from eighteen seventy-one, there is much to be learned, including the subject of biology and how your body works. You would be blown away by all the discoveries that have occurred in the last one hundred and forty years. And as they say, knowledge is power. I don’t want you to think I’m giving up on getting you back home–I’m most definitely not–but we do have to face the possibility that you’ll remain here indefinitely. It’s important that you know how to live in the present.”

Scarlett nodded her head, struggling between her raw emotions and her practicality. There was nothing she wanted more than to go home, but if she was to be trapped in this century for the rest of her life, she had to make the best of it. It was not in Scarlett O’Hara’s nature to lie down and quit living just because some obstacle had been placed in her path, no matter how insurmountable.

*         *         *

On the evening of Scarlett’s first outing, she felt refreshed and rejuvenated from the walk and discovered that the modern clothing had only added enjoyment to the experience. How nice it was to finally be uncovered! It was a bit thrilling–and scandalous–to walk about in clothing less concealing than her usual underclothing. But, after all, hadn’t she always wanted to introduce her fine legs to the world? It had been such a pity to conceal her most prized possessions in the past. Although, it seemed that Max, the Bernese Mountain Dog, had taken the most notice of them today. Scarlett smiled at the memory. She was pleased to know that society had decided that hiding legs away under layers of burdensome skirts was a foolish tradition. More and more benefits were revealing themselves for life in 2011.

This evening’s benefit was seeing Ireland without the trouble of a long journey across an ocean. As with most nights after supper, Scarlett sat on the sofa with Dylan discussing more details of her past and learning of the daily happenings at her Peachtree house. After hearing about the groups that visited her home today, including a collection of Irish tourists, Dylan decided to let Scarlett have a look at images of Ireland herself.

Dylan pulled a hefty book from a shelf in the corner of the room, carefully laid it on Scarlett’s lap, and encouraged her to flip through it. Scarlett lifted the cover to reveal a scrapbook full of photographs. Scarlett determined that the early pages held prints of Dylan and Carolyn’s wedding, he finely dressed in a black suit with a pastel shirt and darker shade of tie, she in the most simple of strapless gowns, not in white, but in a creamy satin, holding a dense bouquet of wine-red roses. The couple was posed in front of a fountain in a park that reminded Scarlett of Forsyth in Savannah, although this was a smaller version and lacked the framing Spanish moss. The fountain, in comparison, had a similar number of tiers, but was dark, octagonal, and had spouts that resembled gargoyles, and in the top tiers, lily pads or leaves.

“We’re going on five years in September,” Dylan disclosed as they viewed the page. “That park is actually not far from where we first met–probably half a mile across the Mississippi as the crow flies.”

Carolyn entered the room from the kitchen and leaned over to view what Scarlett was studying.

“You’re lovely,” Scarlett complimented on Carolyn’s wedding appearance. It was a rare occasion when Scarlett sincerely complimented another woman on her beauty, but her attitude toward Carolyn had been on a different level almost from the moment she met her; Carolyn was less of a competitor and more like a friend. Scarlett determined that Carolyn could make even the simplest dress shine.

“Thank you. Yeah, Dylan and I met not far from here,” Carolyn said, sitting to Scarlett’s left and pointing to the photo of the wedding location. “It was at the annual Irish Fair. We shared a love for Flogging Molly.”

Scarlett gave Carolyn an uneasy, distressed look, unsure why these two kind-hearted people would enjoy whipping someone at a fair. And who was this poor Molly?

Carolyn smiled at Dylan, her eyes sparkling at Scarlett’s assumptions.

“I really must choose my words more carefully,” Carolyn commented.

“Really, do we look sadistic?” Dylan jokingly asked Scarlett.

“Well… No, but–”

Dylan laughed. “Sorry to leave you in suspense, Scarlett. Flogging Molly is the name of a band, a musical group. They play a sort of punk music with a Celtic twist? I’m sure that makes no sense to you at this point. We have some CDs you could play in your bedroom if you’d like to hear them,” Dylan offered. “Car and I met at their concert.”

“Oh,” Scarlett replied with a short laugh, glowing red over what she had originally imagined. Carolyn grinned at Scarlett, revealing her rosy apple cheeks, and Dylan lightly patted her back with reassurance.

Returning her gaze to the photo album, Scarlett flipped through a few more pages of wedding photos, noting how joyful Carolyn and Dylan appeared with each other. Scarlett looked to them today, and noted that nothing much had changed in almost five years. They remained incredibly affectionate. Scarlett had observed the pair a few evenings recently as they sat watching television, Dylan with his arm around Carolyn, she resting her hand above his knee, nestling her body against him. In greeting, they would always offer a relaxed smile and kiss to one another and Scarlett never heard one disrespectful word shared between the two of them. Dylan and Carolyn also showed a true partnership in the parenting of their two young children, neither one claiming to have superior knowledge on the subject. They seemed to be truly content with each other.

Scarlett was surprised to find thoughts of Rhett creeping into her mind, for she had never imagined themselves as a romantic couple. Admittedly, she and Rhett were the opposite of Carolyn and Dylan. Even after just over three years of marriage, they were unable to maintain anything remotely similar. She and Rhett barely touched each other, but Scarlett regrettably admitted she was to blame for that. And what did they have to say to one another now beyond insults, jeers, and spiteful words? Rhett had usurped her authority over the moral upbringing of their children, leaving her almost no say in the matter. Scarlett struggled against the thought, but had to admit, despite everything, that she wished to return to a similar amicability with Rhett. Although, she wondered, had she and Rhett even started at the same blissful point as Dylan and Carolyn? Scarlett shook her head subtly, answering her own question.

Noting Scarlett’s distance and change of mood, Dylan flipped a few pages saying, “All right, that’s enough of our happy day. We’re boring you. I can tell. Now onto the headlining act: Ireland. I took Car here after we were married. We spent a lot of our time in Galway, but did travel to some of the prettiest parts of my country. There won’t be any photos of County Meath, but you’ll get the idea of the beauty of Ireland.”

Scarlett began to scan the photographs following their journey from Galway, where they visited Dylan’s family, to the dramatic vistas of Inishmore, from the political struggles of Derry and Belfast to the spectacular sites of Dunluce Castle and Giant’s Causeway, from the historical Drumcliff and Sligo to modern Dublin.

“Oh, Dylan, do you remember all the sparkling waterfalls as we drove through the Twelve Bens?” Carolyn asked wistfully as they scanned photos of Kylemore Abbey. She directed her attention to Scarlett and recounted, “The sun was hitting them at just the perfect angle. The mountains glittered like they were covered with jewels. Yes, Scarlett, Ireland is a magical place. If you stick around here, you should definitely visit it. Dylan says they plan on setting up tours through the Institute someday. It would be a good opportunity for you.”

Scarlett nodded her head eagerly. “I’d love to go. Pa talked about it all the time. He loved Ireland; I do know that. After seeing the country,” she nodded to the photos, “it’s a wonder he could find the strength to leave it.”

“That’s what I said about my great-grandparents,” Carolyn recalled, brushing a section of blonde hair behind her ear. “That’s until I realized it doesn’t matter how magnificent the place of your birth is if you have no chance of a future there. My great-grandparents had to seek out new land, just as many Irish immigrants did, in order to stake a claim on their own piece of land or a profession in order for their survival.”

Scarlett nodded in understanding, remembering her father’s story of how he fled the only home he had ever known under the cover of night. He fled Ireland, not to acquire land or set up a better life, but to save himself from certain arrest and execution by the British. It angered her that Gerald was forced to escape from a land he held so dear over an inconsequential murder that even she did not view as a crime. A justifiable killing should not be punished. Nevertheless, she was proud of her father for saving himself from injustice and making something of himself in this country.

With these thoughts, Scarlett became curious about how the Atlanta Irish Institute had presented the narrative of her father’s spirited life.

As if Dylan had read Scarlett’s mind, he suggested that she visit him at her Peachtree Street home this upcoming Tuesday, and later help out with the invitations for the inaugural donor’s event, which would precede a public grand opening set for the third weekend in September. Scarlett was anxious to return to her home, but decided she was glad not to be residing there currently. It was an empty shell now, whereas Dylan’s home had the warmth of the living. Besides, she found better comfort in her modern bed as compared to the very best bed money could buy in 1868. However, she was excited to see her home again with un-medicated eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

## Part One

 

### Chapter 6

 

Carolyn transported Scarlett to her beloved Atlanta home Tuesday afternoon following two earlier appointments in the city. Scarlett had dressed herself in a belted royal-blue sundress today; she was pleased with her unadorned outfit because she was able to show her legs again, this time from her knees to her ballerina flats. They were the only accessories she needed and instinctively used them to bring a slight sway to her hips, naturally swinging the fabric of her skirt like a bell.

Carolyn carried Aidan, directing Scarlett and Olivia to the servant’s entrance near the back of the house. Carolyn rapped on the window to Dylan’s office and within seconds he swung the door open to welcome the small group. Dylan’s smile lit up as he took hold of Aidan and gave Olivia a loving squeeze, then led the three females to his office where Carolyn and Dylan took a few minutes to discuss the evening’s schedule. It was decided that Scarlett was physically well enough to stay after hours to help stuff envelopes, as Dylan had a late meeting; he would deliver Scarlett home, giving Carolyn a well-deserved break.

Scarlett, sensing a twinge of the loneliness that plagued her at times, watched Carolyn kiss her husband sweetly before exiting with the children in tow.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well, Scarlett. Did Dr. Stevens give you a passing mark this morning?” Dylan asked with interest, leaning against his desk.

Scarlett nodded her head. She answered with a content smile, her cheeks flushed, “Yes, she said I am healing quite well.” Scarlett dropped her eyes feeling her left hand gripping several pamphlets. “Oh– I forgot to leave these with Carolyn to take home. The doctor gave them to me. She said I might find the information helpful,” Scarlett explained, still wondering if she had seemed in need of an education on pregnancy, even after having already given birth three times.

Although, in discussing the miscarriage with the doctor, Scarlett had revealed that she was unaware of the various factors, beyond the physical accident, that could have led to this unfortunate conclusion; and Dr. Stevens seemed like the sort of person who wouldn’t let you go until you were fully educated on a subject. Scarlett would need Carolyn to describe again what the doctor meant by the possibility of abnormal chromosomes, because the original explanation had been beyond Scarlett’s grasp. And Dr. Stevens became concerned when Scarlett answered a question regarding smoking in the home. Having experienced a taste of the doctor’s well-meaning disapproval, Scarlett decided, when questioned, to conceal her reliance on alcohol, which she learned was another harmful thing to consume while expecting. As she sat listening to the information, Scarlett thought, “Dr. Stevens must think me a silly country fool who doesn’t know a thing about properly being pregnant.” Yet, Scarlett had briefly wondered if she had unknowingly harmed her baby even before the accident, but she dismissed the thought rather quickly, deciding Ella and Bonnie were proof that her actions could not have had this sort of result; though she had to admit that Ella, who had borne the brunt of these potentially harmful actions, was the least clever of her three children.

“Could I leave these with you for now?” Scarlett asked, holding the stack out to Dylan. “Carolyn said she would discuss them with me tomorrow. Oh, and these too?” Scarlett asked, holding out a pair of sunglasses to Dylan. “I really must get a reticule or bag of some sort,” Scarlett mentally noted.

“Sure, we’ll keep them at my desk. Hopefully, no one sees them and thinks I’m expecting again,” Dylan chuckled, taking the items from Scarlett. He briefly fanned out the pamphlets, reading: _Tobacco, Alcohol, Drugs, and Pregnancy_ , _Early Pregnancy Loss: Miscarriage and Molar Pregnancy_ , _Morning Sickness_ , _How Your Baby Grows During Pregnancy_ , _Postpartum Depression_

“I’m glad to hear you received an encouraging prognosis. But, it’s always been said what a strong woman you were. You’re proving that to us now, in the present.”

A warmth flooded Scarlett’s body as she digested the praise. Her eyes brightened as she returned Dylan’s smile.

“And how did your meeting with Vanessa go?” Dylan asked, inquiring about Scarlett’s appointment with her social worker. “Have a seat,” Dylan offered. “We’re waiting for James. He’d like to take you around the house once he’s done with his last tour.”

Scarlett complied, placing her small figure at the edge of the deep chair, crossing her legs at the ankles.

Dylan continued, “I met with Vanessa last week–told her everything was going well with you.”

“I think I played my part well,” Scarlett stated proudly. “My amnesia has _not_ much improved.” Scarlett smiled impishly, running her hands along the smooth wooden arms of the chair as she slid further back into the seat. “Vanessa told me that they haven’t found any reports of someone like me missing. She said it’s as if I fell out of the sky. And as far as anyone knows, I did.”

Dylan chuckled at the comment, noting Scarlett’s grin. “You really do seem to be in good spirits today. I’m very happy to see it.”

“Well…” Scarlett mused, letting her eyes dance as she uncharacteristically leaned her back into the cushion, “the sun is shining, I’m wearing a new dress, and…and I’m pleasantly distracted by this changed world.”

Smiling, Dylan took a seat behind his desk, folding his hands in front of his keyboard. “I bet you’re glad to be out of the house, too.”

Scarlett nodded in confirmation.

“So, what is it you’re enjoying about modern times?”

“Hmm, I’d like to say everything. It’s quite different here in Atlanta now, but it _is_ exciting,” Scarlett decided with a grin. “Although, now my home isn’t the largest, most magnificent building on Peachtree,” she frowned, recalling the monstrous towers surrounding her home. Admittedly, the skyscrapers dazzled her, especially the 73-story glass cylinder to the northwest of her home.

“But your house is the most _charming_ building on the whole street,” Dylan added to soothe her.

Scarlett’s grin returned.

“I suppose it is,” Scarlett answered, her slim fingers playing with the eyelets in her skirt, pleased with the flattery.

“Well, what is it that you are liking?” Dylan continued to quiz.

“Well, I do especially like the fashion,” she said, looking down at her attire. “I adore what Carolyn has chosen for me. And I like your wonderfully fast transportation, and of course electricity, and how I can listen to music–any sort of music–coming from my bedside table at any time by just pushing a button, oh, and how cool your interiors are with, what was it called?”

“Air conditioning,” Dylan answered.

“Yes, air conditioning. It’s so pleasant. You almost never have to suffer with the stifling heat of summer if you don’t want to.” And thinking of other nuisances, Scarlett decided, “It’s much cleaner here now than it was in my time. In this time I wouldn’t worry so much over mud or other things getting on my shoes or skirts. And it smells different, too.”

“Thank goodness for the evolution of sanitation,” Dylan interjected.

“Hmm?” Scarlett questioned with a blank face.

“Sanitation. Plumbing. Wastewater treatment. You were making advances with your water closets and a primitive version of a septic system. I can only image the offensive aromas one could experience in nineteenth century Atlanta,” Dylan concluded, his blue eyes growing wide in horror as his long spine straightened.

Scarlett laughed at his distorted expression.

“Really, it seems you think we were all living in a pigsty!” Scarlett exclaimed playfully, feigning offense.

“No, clearly not,” Dylan replied, lifting his palms and widening his arms referring to the Butler mansion.

As if on cue, James Barrows interrupted, having just concluded a tour of the lavish residence.

“Scarlett! How nice to see you,” James beamed approaching Scarlett in her chair, appearing very casual in taupe slacks and a white dress shirt. He took her proffered hand with his right and gently placed his left hand on top.

“It’s very nice to see you as well, Mr. Barrows,” Scarlett formally replied. “I never did get a chance to thank you for all you’ve done for me. I’m very appreciative and will be forever grateful.”

“Well, maybe you can show your gratitude by accompanying me on a tour of the house. As the main tour guide, people are counting on me for the correct history. I decided, what better source for accurate information than the home’s first occupant. Are you up for it?”

Scarlett glanced to Dylan, observing his encouragement, and returned her lively green eyes to James.

“Of course I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Good,” James answered, patting her hand with his. “Now, would you like to rest for a while longer?”

“No, Mr. Barrows. I am very eager to see what you’ve all done with my home. Although, I can’t say that I’ll approve of everything,” Scarlett teased, faintly remembering the altered carpet and wallpaper in the front hall. She lifted herself from the chair with James’ aid and he slid her arm through the crook of his elbow.

“Shall we take that tour, then?” James asked, towering nearly a foot above her.

Scarlett looked back to Dylan, wondering if he would join them.

“I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll be hanging out here if you need me,” Dylan answered.

“I never thought I’d see the day that this room was turned into an office. Maybe I should have secretly made it mine,” Scarlett mused, realizing the benefits of locking herself away, without anyone’s knowledge, from all the distractions of the house to complete her bookkeeping and paperwork.

“Well, I thank you for putting a sizable window in here. It makes for a very pleasant space. When I was told that my office was to be located in an old storeroom, I feared it would be composed of four solid walls. Solitary confinement,” Dylan recalled.

“Every room has at least one window,” Scarlett explained, remembering that the more windows the house had, the richer she would seem, and the more envious her neighbors would be. The same logic applied to her request for numerous fireplaces, including two in her reception room alone.

“Shall we start in the kitchen?” James suggested, eager to begin the tour.

Scarlett nodded her head and they entered into the servant’s hall looking like a gray-haired father and his grown daughter on a leisurely tour of her new house. As they entered the kitchen, James pulled out a pen and small journal from his coat pocket, prepared to take notes.

The kitchen was a space Scarlett did not visit with much frequency. Instead, she would meet with her cook several times a week in the spacious pantry, especially in summer, to avoid the heat of the continuously operational kitchen. However, she did have a say in how it was designed, and spent a few minutes discussing the original features with James, some of which were still present.

From there, they moved into the pantry and then stepped into the unlocked, now bare, china closet where Scarlett had kept many of her fine silver treasures she liked to flaunt as gleaming table centerpieces for her various parties. Gone was her finely detailed silver service imprinted with lively peacock feathers. Also missing were the enormous silver candelabras that ornamented her tables on special occasions. Scarlett found herself unable to speak for a time, saddened by the empty space.

“Where is it all?” she asked James, softly, gazing at him with lost eyes.

“Because we aren’t sure we know of everything that you owned, we can’t say for certain. We do have several invoices in our archive. There are some silver items listed. Maybe you’ll be able to sit down with Peggy or me someday and make a detailed list of what you had as of the time you came to us. We do know that some objects are still in the family.”

Scarlett slowly nodded her head, knowing not to press him on any more details. She’d been reminded often that she was not to know of her future, or she supposed, the future of her descendants in the chance that she found herself returned to 1871. At least she knew there were descendants and that, hopefully, they were now treasuring that which was so important to her during her lifetime. She recalled Dylan telling her that much of her furniture had been returned, donated by members of her family. At least they had valued it enough to retain it for over 100 years.

“Let’s move to the dining room,” James suggested, gently placing his hand on Scarlett’s upper back to guide her out of the china closet. “Maybe you’ll see something you’re looking for in there.”

Quietly, Scarlett stepped into the room she had dizzyingly observed two weeks ago. Her goal on that day had been to remain conscious, impress Carolyn with her sanity, and prove her identity. She had been unable to conjure up further stamina in order to examine the dining room in which she had spent so many hours.

Today, Scarlett moved from corner to corner and scanned everything in between: the ornate black walnut sideboards and buffet, the dragon gaslight fixtures, the fireplace and carved mantel, the grand chandelier, the intricate parquetry framing the oak floor. Her grin grew wide and her eyes glowed as she studied the contents of the sideboards, bringing her face inches from the objects. On one shelf rested the cylindrical silver water pitcher and a platter from her peacock feather set and on a lower shelf, the enormous matching silver punch bowl. When Scarlett moved to the second sideboard, her attention was drawn by a stunning cut-glass punch bowl standing over a foot tall.

“What is this?” Scarlett asked James, pointing to the glittering lead crystal.

James appeared at a loss for words.

“Hmm, I suspect it’s something you shouldn’t have seen,” he determined with a chuckle. “A slight oversight… But there isn’t a way I could have carried it out of here safely. It weighs a ton.”

“But it’s mine?” Scarlett asked enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling like the massive object she was inspecting. “It will be mine?” she asked, almost as a statement. She wanted to graze the cool crystal with her fingertips, but soon caught sight of the small _do-not-touch_ sign. Scarlett sighed, her shoulders dropping as she exhaled. How annoying it was to be warned not to touch anything even in one’s own house!

Instead of answering Scarlett’s question, James directed her attention to the grand dining table at the center of the room. Scarlett reluctantly turned, brushing her loose, glossy black hair back over her shoulders.    

“We have invoices for much of your furniture. I assume you purchased most of your furnishings around the same time. Each room contains the same Renaissance-revival style in black walnut that we see here,” James commented, hoping for confirmation.

Running her hand over the ornamental rail of a chair, admiring the large vase of yellow roses at the center of the table, Scarlett wondered if she’d have her hand slapped for this contact, too, but then remembered that she had sat on one of these chairs two weeks ago. Maybe they were not as delicate as some other chairs…or maybe they weren’t original. Studying the design and fabric, Scarlett decided that if they weren’t original, they were faithful reproductions.

The table, itself, was clearly the original, and still in remarkable condition. Currently, two additional leaves had expanded the length of the table, which was suitable for a dinner party with a handful of guests. For daily use, Scarlett had the leaves removed for a more intimate family dining space. The shortened length made it unnecessary for her to shout in order to have a conversation with her husband across the table. Although, Scarlett pondered momentarily, maybe her marriage would have been more successful had she kept her distance from Rhett throughout it all. At least there wouldn’t have been ample opportunity to show their disdain for each other. If she ever made it back, maybe she would instruct her staff to install all the leaves in the table.

Scarlett pulled herself back from her musings, deciding she was enjoying herself too much today to let thoughts like that steal away her cheerfulness.

“Yes, much of the furniture was ordered from New York–from A. T. Stewart and Company. This table. The sideboards. The buffet,” Scarlett explained, walking up to the aforementioned piece. Scarlett smiled, recognizing her familiar china and crystal sets behind the glass. “The dining room was entirely furnished by that department store. My bedroom set was also ordered from there,” Scarlett added, gazing out the alcove window.

“That’s correct,” James replied, as if Scarlett had just been tested.

“And the furniture in the reception room was ordered at the same time.”

“Let’s go next door and step into the reception room, then,” James suggested.

And so they continued to move through the house with Scarlett providing details that were not known to James until today and instructing him on the correct positions for misplaced or missing pieces of furniture. They toured the formal reception room and crossed through the entry to the sitting room, concluding the main floor in the stately library, which Scarlett described as the most masculine of the house; for it was mainly utilized by Rhett and Wade–though her small office was tucked behind it. The library had become one of Wade’s favorite hideouts, allowing him to escape the nuisance of his younger sisters.  

After covering the second and third floors, Scarlett needed a rest and lowered herself onto a cushioned bench in an alcove off the ballroom. James took a seat beside her, settling on one of the original built-in benches that surrounded the extensive space. Silently they sat, staring to the triple set of windows in the alcove as the late afternoon sun heated the area. Scarlett then turned her head to look through the wide doorway into the grand ballroom and sighed.

“It seems like ages since I had my crush.”

“A crush?” James questioned.

“My housewarming party. But really, it hasn’t even been three years, ” she determined, surprising herself. “Everything seemed so different then,” Scarlett said with distance, her attention drifting back to that fall evening in 1868. She recalled the scene in her mind. Her grand new house was occupied with guests marveling at the brightly lit rooms and her canvas-covered veranda. As Scarlett closed her eyes, she could almost taste the creamed oysters and champagne punch she had served. And her memory replayed the sweet music drifting over the dance floor of her ballroom, lifting her from the bench almost involuntarily.

With meditative steps, Scarlett moved to the center of the hardwood dance floor and made a pirouette on her toe, looking up to the unlit central chandelier as her skirt puffed away from her legs. The smallness of her petite figure was exaggerated in the open, expansive space surrounding her. James walked to the edge of the dance floor, but said nothing.

“You know, Rhett and I barely got in three dances that night,” Scarlett remembered, her voice echoing off the walls. She smiled briefly, recalling the pride she felt having her handsome new husband by her side to greet their friends, old and new. “I was so very busy entertaining my guests. We had the governor in attendance, you know,” Scarlett proudly disclosed, thinking this would give her an air of prestige.

“Which governor was that?” James questioned, approaching Scarlett with his pen poised over paper.

“Governor Rufus Bullock. He and Rhett were friends. Although, Rhett decided to break ties with him not too long ago,” Scarlett added.

James gave her a curious look, possibly wondering if there was significance to the comment. Scarlett satisfied her companion with an explanation.

“You see, Governor Bullock is a Republican. And while it was quite fine for Rhett to associate with him before Bonnie was born, after she came, he decided to become respectable for her sake. And one can’t be respectable if they’re connected to a Republican or a Scalawag,” Scarlett explained resentfully, surprised to be airing her family’s private matters to a near stranger.

“Scalawag. Now there’s a quaint term,” James commented to himself followed by a quiet chuckle.

Deciding to quickly switch the subject back to a more pleasant one, Scarlett returned to the room at hand.

“Oh, how I loved having a ballroom in my home,” she sighed, clasping her balled hands to her chest. “The orchestra was situated right over there,” Scarlett explained, pointing to a corner. “There would have been palms and rubber plants screening them from the dancers,” she said, holding her hands out vertically in front of her. “I had food and refreshments–the very best–over there,” Scarlett said while pointing along the walls near the alcove they had just occupied. “All my guests were dressed in their finest attires–many particularly purchased for my gatherings–but no woman ever turned up in a gown finer than mine. My parties really were a sight to be seen!”

“Have you had any recently?” James inquired, smiling at Scarlett’s lack of modesty.

“No,” Scarlett answered regretfully, becoming distant again. “No, not in quite a while.” Planted in the center of the floor, Scarlett frowned, remembering why it was that she hadn’t had a significant party in so long. Scarlett blamed Rhett for taking this pleasure away from her. Once he had made it his ultimate goal to be accepted by the Old Guard, he refused to co-host any parties Scarlett wished to give with her new friends in attendance. And Scarlett knew that if it weren’t for her new friends, a party guest list might only include Ashley and Melanie Wilkes and Aunt Pitty: hardly a collection for a lively party. Scarlett had grown weary of the position Rhett had put her in and soon lacked the motivation to plan yet another joyless event.

James, noting the melancholy in Scarlett’s demeanor, said, “You might be happy to learn that we’re holding a bash here–a christening or a crush, if you will–in September. I think–from what Dylan told me–you’ll be helping with the invitations for it this evening. It will be the first party held here in many, many years.”

“It’s for the people who donated money to the Irish Institute?” Scarlett asked, looking to James with her brightened eyes.

James nodded, “And those who’ve helped restore this house to its former glory. Although, I suppose you’d be the best judge of that.”

Scarlett walked around the floor in a widening spiral, thoroughly scanning the room, then moved to a large, arching window in the front of the house and knelt on the cushioned bench, observing the view from the heights of her mansion. It was not a sight she had ever seen out of these windows before: concrete, glass, brick, and only a smattering of trees. She pulled her hands from the window frame and carefully twisted her body down to a seated position, aware of her sensitive rib. Settled, Scarlett raised her head to meet James’ eyes.

“This home has been lovingly cared for. It’s in wonderful condition and I am thankful for that,” she answered with a genuine smile. “But, above all else, I’m just grateful that it’s still here–standing tall.”

“So to speak,” James added with a glint in his eyes.

Scarlett giggled, craning to catch sight of the sundrenched skyscrapers towering over them like giants.

“Shall we go visit Peggy in the carriage house, or have you had enough for one day?” James asked, drawing Scarlett’s eyes from the window.

“No, I’d like to visit with Peggy today, but… I could rest here a few minutes more,” Scarlett decided, noting her fatigue, which led to a fitting yawn. Scarlett’s eyes followed James as he took a seat beside her, leaning his back against the wall and stretching his long legs out before him.

As Scarlett tentatively smoothed the blue fabric over her thighs, James asked, “Is it difficult being here now or does it bring you some comfort?”

Returning her gaze to James’ gray-blue eyes, Scarlett smiled pensively.

“Oh, comfort,” she answered, nodding as her green eyes moistened. “It’s the one solid thing in the world that hasn’t changed–at least very much. It does feel like I’m in a dream at times, but I can touch this,” she explained, pressing her hands into the cushion. “This is real.”

“After today, I have trouble doubting your identity,” James expressed, leaning forward and unfolding his crossed arms. He mirrored Scarlett and sunk his wide hands in the burgundy-colored cushion.

Scarlett smiled with appreciation.

“I’m glad,” she simply responded. “I don’t know where I’d be if no one believed me. Homeless or in an asylum,” Scarlett conjectured, blankly staring to the room in front of her. “Carolyn and Dylan have been very kind to me.”

“They’re good people,” James commented. “You’re very lucky to be with them.”

Scarlett nodded her head in agreement.

“You look well. How are you feeling?” James asked with true concern, noting a few faint, lingering brownish-yellow bruises on her upper arm and just above her knee.

“Much better,” Scarlett happily answered. “I’m feeling more like myself today. Maybe it’s because I knew I would be coming home. Although…” Scarlett paused, directing her attention to the short halls leading to the towers. “You know, I keep thinking I’ll see someone appear.”

“Whom?” James asked curiously.

“One of the children. Rhett. Mammy–oh, Carolyn told me I’m not supposed to say that!” Scarlett disappointedly caught herself, biting her lower lip as her thick eyebrows rushed together.

“What?”

“Mammy,” Scarlett said quietly. “Carolyn told me it might be improper to say now–though it is what she has always been called.”

“I can guess who she might be, but tell me about her,” James encouraged.

“She’s the head nurse to my children. I’ve known her my entire life and she knows me better than anyone else,” Scarlett said, amusing herself with the thought, remembering how she rarely got away with anything because of that fact. “She was a nurse to me and to my mother before that.”

“An important part of your family,” James stated.

“Yes,” Scarlett affirmed strongly with a single nod of the head. “While we’ve been sitting here, I’ve been thinking of something she told me recently. I was asking for Wade’s whereabouts, and Mam– _she_ said he was probably hiding out in one of the towers up here. I keep expecting him to peep out from one,” Scarlett revealed, looking longingly toward the south tower. She could see light from the small window situated in the lower part of the tower and viewed the bottom steps of a short, curved staircase that led to a door that opened to the decoratively framed mansard roof.

“I must seem silly, but each time I’ve been here, I can’t help but think that I’ll find my family,” Scarlett said in frustration.

“They’re part of this house,” James reasoned, scanning the ballroom as if searching for ghostly figures. “You’ll always associate the two together.”

Scarlett sucked in her lower lip and took a deep breath, feeling her spirits wane. Maybe it would be helpful to remove herself from the house for a while and think of something else. It had become very difficult to accept that, while here, she would not hear the drumming sound of Bonnie’s lively feet as she bounded down a hall, and she wouldn’t hear Rhett’s comforting laughter as he happily trailed after their daughter.

“I think I’m ready to visit the carriage house, now,” she stated, rising from the bench, knowing she had fewer family memories to creep up there.

           

The carriage house, it turned out, had nothing to do with carriages anymore. As they entered the main entrance door, the lively sound of music wafted through the air, highlighting the tin whistle, bodhrán, fiddle, and uilleann pipes. They found Peggy behind a counter near a cash register. She smiled widely, swiftly turned the volume down on the sound system, and rushed over to Scarlett.

“Oh, dear, you are looking so pretty today,” Peggy complimented sweetly, circling her arms around Scarlett and giving her a quick squeeze. “How are you doing?” she asked, tidying Scarlett’s thick, dark hair.

“I am well,” Scarlett answered, flustered, yet comforted by the minor attack. “I’m very happy to be here today.”

“Taking a look around to see if you approve of what we’ve done to the place?” Peggy reasoned. “We were so happy to receive improvement updates on your health each day! We were all so worried about you. But you are looking well!”

The corners of Scarlett’s mouth lifted at Peggy’s true concern. It was nice to know someone had been thinking of her and wishing her well. Even in her own life–her previous life–Scarlett could remember often feeling alone, as if the whole world was against her. And she would casually wonder if anyone would mourn for her if she died. Surely many would grieve for her financial support, but would they truly miss _her_? Even her husband, who certainly did not rely on her income…if she truly had been ripped from 1871, would Rhett grieve for her now?

Scarlett turned her attention to the captivating objects before her, exasperated that her mind constantly drifted to the past.

“Have a look around,” Peggy encouraged, pushing the colorful fabric of her loose, unbuttoned blouse out of the way to slip her hands into her trouser pockets. “This is our main entrance. I take reservations, admission fees, and gather tour groups here. We only allow the house to be visited with the escort of a tour guide or an instructor. The doors of the house are always locked. That’s why we were so surprised to run across you that morning, as you couldn’t have gotten in without a key.” Peggy turned to scan the well-stocked room. “This space is also our gift shop: the best Irish gift shop outside of Savannah. Dylan had a lot to do with the selection of items we sell. His older sister owns an Irish goods store up north in St. Paul and he worked with her for many, many years. The connection has been very advantageous.”

Curious, Scarlett made her way over to one of the displays that immediately caught her eye. The well-lit glass shelves exhibited crystal housewares. “Galway,” Scarlett said inaudibly, reading the brand of crystal. There were lead crystal candlesticks, decanters, champagne flutes, and bowls and vases of various shapes and designs, all exquisitely cut to maximize the play of the light that shone on it. “It’s just beautiful!” Scarlett complimented enthusiastically.

She then shifted over to another set of shelves to admire a collection of white porcelain. Most of the objects were decorated with shamrocks, painted a green that matched the color of her eyes. “Belleek,” Scarlett read, noting the sign on a shelf. This assemblage contained vases, plates, bowls, teapots, and mugs. Scarlett lifted a bowl from a shelf at her eyelevel. The bowl had a waving scalloped edge and was decorated with Celtic knots and the ubiquitous green shamrocks. She turned it over in her hand and noted a label on the underside. The price was quite shocking at one hundred dollars, just for a bowl, but Scarlett was soon distracted by the title given the piece: Tara Bowl.

Scarlett turned to James and Peggy, holding out the fragile object to them and exclaimed, “It’s called _Tara_!”

Peggy lightly dashed over to Scarlett, clearly concerned that in the excitement Scarlett’s grip on the bowl might relax.

“Yes, and you also saw that it is worth one hundred dollars,” Peggy lightly joked, retrieving the object from Scarlett’s hand and placing it back on the shelf. “It’s from the Tara collection. We also have the vase and tray of the set, here,” she informed, pointing to, rather than picking up the items.

“Oh, Tara,” Scarlett sighed with longing. “You know, that’s the name of the plantation where I was raised,” she explained to Peggy and James. They nodded, signaling their knowledge of the location. “Pa named it Tara.”

“We assume he named it after the Hill of Tara in County Meath, the county where he resided in his youth,” James explained. “The Hill of Tara has deep mythical connections going back to the Stone Age and it is believed that Ireland’s kings once reigned from there.”

“Do you know if it still exists?” Scarlett asked urgently, alarmed that she was just now wondering about Tara’s fate in 2011.

“The hill?” James asked for clarification, his head edging forward.

“No, _my_ Tara,” Scarlett stressed.

“Yes. Yes, it does. Not the entire plantation, but there is a portion–”

“Can I go there?” Scarlett interrupted excitedly, eager to see it with her own eyes and feel its presence. What a relief to know her two most precious homes lived on!

“I think we can work something out,” Peggy replied, entertained by Scarlett’s enthusiasm.

“I’d like to go as soon as possible,” Scarlett insisted.

“Of course you would,” Peggy answered, placing a hand on Scarlett’s bare shoulder. “We’ll get you there. Have no worries about it. Now, is there anything else breakable in this room you’d like to reach for and cause me heart palpitations?”

Scarlett’s cheeks turned a deep crimson, and silently promised herself she’d curb her eagerness. “I’m certainly not making a very stable impression,” she thought embarrassedly.

Pressing her hands into her skirt, Scarlett took quick inventory of the other Irish goods being sold in the gift shop, gliding from one display to the next, scanning the small selection of teas and candies, t-shirts, magnets, flags, calendars, and postcards. She then turned her attention to the display case near the cash register and found a multitude of Irish-themed jewelry. As her eyes poured over the silver, gold, and emeralds composing wedding bands, decorative rings, pendants, and earrings, Peggy stepped behind the counter, reached in, and pulled out a dainty silver band with cutouts.

“This is our Claddagh kiss ring–a twist on the original design. Have you heard of Claddagh rings?” she asked Scarlett, holding out the silver trinket to her.

Taking the object between her fingertips, Scarlett studied the shapes. It consisted of two hands reaching toward each other, holding a heart between them. The third object on the ring was a crown situated on top of the heart. She returned her eyes to Peggy’s kind gaze and Scarlett shook her head, displaying her ignorance on the subject.

“The elements in the design relate to the qualities of love, friendship, and loyalty. Can you guess which is which?” Peggy asked encouragingly.

Scarlett looked down at the ring and first pointed to the heart.

“This is for love,” she guessed. “The hands must be for friendship. And, I suppose the crown is for loyalty?” Scarlett determined, looking to Peggy for confirmation.

“That’s right. And now I’m going to royally confuse you on the ways in which it is worn to indicate your status.”

Peggy took the ring and slid it on Scarlett’s finger, placing it just above her wedding band, the crown facing away from Scarlett.

“This would mean you’re engaged to be married.”

Then, she switched the direction of the crown, placing it back on the same finger.

“This would mean you’re married, and would be the proper way for _you_ to wear it.”

Peggy then removed the ring and slid it on Scarlett’s right hand finger down to her knuckle above the diamond and emerald engagement ring.

“The crown is away from you, which means you are not in a romantic relationship. The heart is open and you just might be looking for that special someone. And finally,” Peggy started, flipping the ring over on the same finger, “this would indicate that you’re in a relationship. Someone has captured your heart.”

“It must have been intended for a mute, illiterate person,” James joked, “otherwise words, written or spoken, would have sufficed.”

Peggy laughed heartily at his jesting, returning her attention to Scarlett who had been playing with the ring and had finally decided to place it above her wedding band in the _married_ position. She stretched her hand out in front of her, spreading her fingers wide to gaze at the ring.

“I’ve heard a variety of stories on the origin of the ring, but most trace it back to the Joyce clan of Galway. The rings existed long before your time, or your father’s time, Scarlett,” Peggy explained, watching Scarlett twist the ring off her finger.

“I truly have never seen one before. It is quite lovely,” Scarlett said while handing the ring back to Peggy. Tilting her head downward, as if admiring the variety of items in the case, Scarlett concealed a fresh smile as she thought of how many ways she would have had to wear the ring as a youth depending on which boy’s company she was keeping. When she was chasing a potential suitor, the heart surely would have been open; she would have closed the heart in the presence of a suitor she was trying to keep on her string, making him think she was only serious for him, and quite possibly she would have worn it in the engaged position if she wanted to cut an unworthy suitor loose.

“Yet another thing I would have had to keep straight,” she thought to herself, remembering the chaos of juggling all her beaux.

In her reverie, Scarlett didn’t notice James’ surprise following a check of his watch.

“All right, we need to move along,” James said, placing his hand lightly against the lacy fabric below Scarlett’s shoulder and guiding her past a selection of books and music–all Ireland-related. Peggy followed as they moved into the next room, which was slightly larger than the first. Twelve folding chairs were set up in the center of the room arranged in three rows of four. A series of two-foot by three-foot panels lined three walls. To the left of the entrance began a section of educational panels discussing Ireland’s history and the story of the immigrants who came to America searching for a better life, including a panel with the subject heading _The Irish in Georgia_. There was a break in the center of the wall facing the entrance, separating the Ireland theme with Scarlett’s family history, which began with a map of Ireland. Each panel appeared to have descriptive text and images associated with a topic.

“Here, in this room, we gather the tour groups and give them an introduction to Ireland, the immigrant’s story, your family’s history, and information on the house itself,” James announced, studying Scarlett’s blank reaction.

If Scarlett had wanted to escape memories of her relations this afternoon, this was not the place to do it.

“I’m sorry I had to cover much of it up,” Peggy said apologetically in relation to the panels concealed by sheets of newspaper. “The story of your home and your family continues after July eighteen seventy-one and–”

“And I’m not supposed to know about it,” Scarlett cut in. “I know.” She wasn’t yet sure of how she felt about not knowing. Obviously it had never been a topic she had considered. To know what your future held might possibly be advantageous, or terribly frightening–as Scarlett recalled an English tale she had heard not so long ago. No, maybe they were doing her a true favor. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

“We start out with the Ireland connection, of course,” James began, standing near the map that highlighted County Meath. Scarlett moved to his right side to get a clearer view. Inset was a map of North America and Europe showing the path from Ireland to Georgia in the eastern United States.

“Here’s where we are and here’s Ireland,” James explained, placing one finger on each location. Returning his attention to the map of Ireland, he pointed to a county in the west labeled _Galway_. “This is where Dylan Connolly was born and raised.”

“Oh, yes,” Scarlett said, now remembering the images secured in his photograph album. Reaching up, she placed her left index finger on Galway and her right on Meath. “They’re really not so far apart,” she decided.

“No, Ireland’s a relatively small country,” James affirmed. “We’ve traced your father to an area east of Trim, here in County Meath. But a man on a recent tour informed me that he thought that the O’Hara clan name was originally associated with Sligo, so if he’s correct, your father’s ancestors may have migrated,” James disclosed, sliding his finger from County Sligo to the center of County Meath. “Gerald O’Hara’s youth was spent about thirty miles from Dublin, the capital of the Republic of Ireland.”

“Oh, I see,” Scarlett replied, pointing to Dublin on the map. “The Republic?” Scarlett asked, turning her questioning green eyes to James.

“Yes, the majority of Ireland was finally able to break free of British rule in nineteen twenty-two.”

“Oh, Pa would be thrilled to know that!” Scarlett responded tenderly with a wide grin. If she remembered one thing about Gerald O’Hara’s connection to his homeland, it was his desire, and the desire of her ancestors, to fight for a free Ireland and take back the precious land that belonged to them. Scarlett felt a burst of renewed strength surge through her veins at this news. Finally, after years and years, the fighting had come to an end and her family could claim victory. Their blood had not been spilt for a lost cause. They had something magnificent to show for it. Scarlett was certain that her Irish relations had played their part in this successful outcome. With that thought, Scarlett felt immense pride in her Irish heritage.

Scarlett then turned her attention back to the map.

“Where are those rock columns and that castle that’s crumbling into the sea?” she asked while imagining the most memorable images Dylan and Carolyn shared with her.

“Well, I think Dunluce might be in Derry and Giant’s Causeway may be in Antrim,” James guessed, pointing to the counties in Northern Ireland. “But, generally in the same area. They’re in the part of Ireland that is still connected to the United Kingdom. This area,” James began, circling an outline with his left index finger, “is called Northern Ireland.”

“Oh. I’m sure Father never saw either of those places. It’s quite far away from his birthplace,” Scarlett determined. “And I’m sure he would have spoken of them if he had.”

“And probably would have told you the story of Finn MacCool. Did he speak of Ireland much?” Peggy asked, flanking Scarlett’s right.

Scarlett nodded her head readily.

“He thought the most beautiful land in the world was in County Meath…then Tara after that,” Scarlett answered Peggy, showing her dimples, amused by her father’s opinion. “He would talk of our ancestors, the Scarletts, fighting with the Irish Volunteers: and our O’Hara relations who lost their lives at the Boyne. He frightened me with tales of the siege at Drogheda–”

“He wasn’t involved with that, was he?” James interrupted. “Wasn’t that in sixteen forty-something?”

Scarlett turned her attention to James, peeved with how his comment awakened a sleeping memory.

“No, Rhett made it perfectly clear to me that Pa was not involved in the siege,” Scarlett grumbled, remembering Rhett’s claim that she was the most ignorant person he’d ever met. “I suppose it may have been one of my great-grandfathers down the line. Pa always spoke of everything as if it had happened to him.”

“The Irish are known for their storytelling. They can bring a tale to life and make it seem as if the event they’re speaking of happened just the day before.”

Scarlett nodded to Peggy in concurrence.

“I’m glad to know Gerald O’Hara brought so much of Ireland with him to this country,” said James, watching Scarlett’s sparkling eyes wander to the next panel.

Tilting her head, Scarlett examined the photograph before her on the _O’Hara’s_ panel. She briefly touched the image then brought her fingers down, covering her mouth. Apparently, the hormones Carolyn had educated her on were still running amok throughout her body, for she felt herself holding back tears. After many years of fading images in her mind, she was looking upon the younger faces of her father and her mother, as well as herself at the age of eleven. Scarlett could not recall ever seeing the developed photograph, but had clear memories of the occasion when the photographer, who had been passing through Jonesboro, was summoned to Tara by her father for a family portrait.

Mammy had spent a good part of the morning helping dress Scarlett and her younger sisters in all their finery, arranging their rag curls into bunches on either side of a center part. Careen, Suellen, and Scarlett wore almost identical dresses with a pair of ruffles on the cap sleeves and a hemline that came down to their calves, revealing the lace cuff of their white pantalets. Scarlett fondly remembered the novelty of the wide skirts puffing out with the aid of hoops and petticoats that she normally wouldn’t wear for her daily jaunts up trees or blazing across the fields on the back of a horse, for hoops and petticoats just got in the way and slowed her down. Although, she did recall wishing for the additional layers of petticoats at the time her father paddled her for throwing a buttered biscuit at Suellen just a year before this photograph was taken.

The two older girls flanked their seated parents. Scarlett stood next to Ellen with her hand resting upon her mother’s shoulder. It was a position Scarlett fought for with all her might by planting herself next to her beloved mother and refusing to budge as Suellen attempted to sidle between them. After the photographer suggested that Suellen stand next to their father, and Suellen complied, Scarlett found a moment to poke her tongue out at her sister in triumph. Gentle, delicate Careen stood in between their parents as if she were already the peacekeeper between her sisters at the age of seven.

“Oh, Mother,” Scarlett sighed as she focused on Ellen’s image at the age Scarlett was now. Ellen’s black hair was neatly parted down the middle and tightly pinned back, highly contrasting with the glowing whiteness of her plain dress: the only embellishment being a garnet brooch at her neck and a thin, dark belt at her waist. Scarlett was reminded of how different she and her mother were, as Scarlett would never be caught appearing in such a dull ensemble. But Scarlett never judged her mother as she would any other woman. Ellen was infallible…of another world altogether.

Scarlett now craved her mother’s comforting arms. She craved the peace Ellen would bring her at this incredible time of difficulty and confusion. Even looking into those slanting dark eyes, frozen in time, brought Scarlett some solace.

“I miss them so much,” Scarlett whispered. “Even in eighteen seventy-one, they’re gone. Even if I could get back, I would never see my parents again.”

“Your mother died when you were not quite twenty,” James stated.

Scarlett nodded gloomily.

“And I lost Pa not two years later,” Scarlett added, looking up to the panel again, observing a small map indicating the location of Tara in relation to Atlanta.

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy offered from behind, placing her hands on Scarlett’s arms, rubbing gently below her shoulders. “That’s too young of an age to lose your parents.”

Focusing on the photograph once more, Scarlett was silent, feeling comfort in Peggy’s caresses.

“You are the just the cutest little thing in that photo!” Peggy praised, transforming Scarlett’s pout into a soft grin. “Although, there’s something behind that angelic façade. I see a little girl who might possibly have found herself in quite a bit of mischief,” Peggy teased, accurately reading Scarlett as many had before her.

Scarlett’s smile again morphed into a twisted pout as she remembered disappointing her mother countless times during her childhood, flouting her teachings. Certainly Ellen wouldn’t have been pleased with the reputation her daughter may have transported more than 150 years into the future. Peggy had identified her youthful essence. But just as Rhett had teased her in the past, Scarlett decided, Peggy, too, was only trying to distract her from her sorrows, not make a judgment on her character. Peggy’s comforting embrace signaled her compassion, and Scarlett remained silent on the subject, grudgingly admitting that Peggy had made an accurate assessment. Although, Scarlett always felt her naughty behavior made appearances through no fault of her own.

“Where did you find this photograph? I don’t remember it being displayed at Tara,” Scarlett commented.

“I’m not sure,” James answered. “It may have been from one of your distant relatives. Do you think it was sent to a cousin, uncle, grandparent, or someone like that?”

“Hmm. Maybe Uncle Andrew or Uncle James in Savannah or Grandfather Robillard or Aunt Pauline or Aunt Eulalie. Maybe Mother or Pa sent it to one of them,” Scarlett conjectured, thinking it most likely that it had been in the hands of her O’Hara relations, remembering how excited her father had been over the family photograph. Gerald would have been very proud to show off his fine family to his older siblings.

“Could I possibly have this photograph?” Scarlett asked, wishing to look on her mother daily.

“I’m sure Dylan can get you a copy,” Peggy answered. “You should check with him.”

Scarlett nodded, now turning her attention to the third panel titled _The House_. In the text, she noted a mention of the architect, wood carvers, stained glass artists, and the materials that went into the production of the mansion–inside and out. Her eyes drifted down to the photograph highlighting the first family to inhabit the house and she had to look away for a moment after feeling a stabbing sensation in her stomach. This photograph was taken in an Atlanta studio a month or so after Bonnie’s first birthday, as Rhett began his campaign to improve his image: what better way to start than to present yourself as the head of a picture-perfect family in the form of an albumen print.

Scarlett attempted to focus her eyes again on the photograph, but found it too upsetting. The image presented all that she had left behind. While her reaction would have surprised the Mrs. Elsings and Merriweathers of her world–who thought all that mattered to Scarlett was her own self and her accumulation of wealth; it wouldn’t have surprised them as much as it surprised herself. Scarlett turned and stumbled to the nearest folding chair. Burying her face in her hands, Scarlett wept.

James swiftly moved to Scarlett’s side, while Peggy immediately sought out some tissue. James didn’t say a word, didn’t offer a comforting touch, allowing Scarlett to fully grieve her losses. The thought of never seeing those four people again brought a dreadful ache to her heart, and she shook her head, not understanding why it should hurt so very much. As it was, in the year of 2011, she was alive and they were all long dead: a confounding thought to know you outlived your children in time. If trapped here for the remainder of her life, she would never have the opportunity to find them.

Peggy pulled up a chair and offered Scarlett the box of tissues.

Scarlett retrieved a peach-colored square and brought it to her face, soaking it immediately. Extracting tissue after tissue, Scarlett choked out her terrible heartbreak, finally resting her head on Peggy’s offered shoulder. When her emotions finally leveled, she lifted another dry tissue to her face, hoping it to be the last one she would need for the day.

“Oh,” Scarlett moaned, her aching head remaining on Peggy’s shoulder a few additional moments. “These stupid hormones!” she growled, placing the blame on something out of her control. Turning her attention to James, she said, “You must think I cry like a fool every day. And I promised myself I would stop doing this!” she said through gritted teeth.

“Scarlett, we all understand. Don’t feel ashamed. Maybe this was all too much for you today.”

“No. I needed to see this,” Scarlett said sniffling. She raised her pointed chin to the panels, feeling a gradual restoration of her strength. “I was desperate to see my home and what it’s become. I couldn’t just sit in Marietta day after day wondering. Dylan has told me so much about it, but I needed to see it for myself.” Looking up to the ceiling, Scarlett continued, “He said there’s classroom and exhibit space upstairs. It’s wonderful what this has become. It’s something that would make my father very proud. I’m proud, too,” Scarlett disclosed, forcing a smile.

Drawing one last dry tissue across her cheeks, Scarlett wiped away the remainder of the salty wetness. She bravely stood, straightened her skirt, and moved to face what had caused her breakdown minutes before, focusing on her children. Peggy was right. A child should not lose her parent at such a young age. The pain of that circumstance had remained with Scarlett after all these years and she was determined that her children would not face a similar fate. No matter the qualifications that Rhett said she lacked in parenting, she was still their mother after all. Scarlett looked to her self-assured husband and muted a short, bitter laugh after imaging him trying to raise the children on his own. He had no idea of the effort she gave in managing their upbringing, even when she would have preferred spending her precious time in another way. It didn’t matter that Jennifer and Carolyn had determined that part of her physically remained in the past; the woman holding Scarlett’s place in 1871 in no way contained her complete soul. Scarlett gazed steadfastly at the photograph of her and her family, as if challenging them to come to her, or for them to draw her back to them. A calm washed over her. One way or another, she knew they would meet again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter rubbed one of the readers in our yahoo group the wrong way, so just fair warning that there is minor discussion of American politics and race in this chapter. I promise you, it has a purpose in this story, beyond allowing Scarlett to see how things have changed...though you might not see it until the conclusion many chapters down the road. It has been a troublesome chapter for me to edit, but eventually I wanted to move beyond it, so it is what it is at this point. You may find parts tedious - though I hope not. Oh, and there's no rule that you have to like every character in this story. In this chapter, I've tried to create a complex character, like any other human being :) And finally, I think there is minor mature language in this chapter (and there will be more in future chapters) so I apologize if you don't enjoy that in a story. It will be used, but minimally. Apologies for any strange formatting - copy and paste have caused some strange things (like repeating lines of text in quadruplicate in one spot, which I fixed). Other than that, I do hope you enjoy it.

 

## Part One

 

### Chapter 7

“Hi, Scarlett,” Jennifer greeted when Dylan ushered Scarlett to the dining room after she had freshened up in the carriage house’s modern restroom. “You’re looking very _pretty_ today,” she complimented, stressing and slowing down the most important word. “That’s a great dress.”

“One of my wife’s many fine talents,” Dylan responded.

“Oh, I suppose she picked out clothing for you while you’ve been recovering,” Jennifer surmised, lining up a stack of envelopes she held in her hands. “Yes, Carolyn does have good taste. I’d be happy to take you out shopping some weekend, if you’d like,” Jennifer kindly offered, adding to the smile on Scarlett’s lips. “I’m glad you’re doing well enough to help us out tonight. We’re just waiting for one more person and then the three of us will get these invitations together.”

“Well,” Dylan said, turning his wrist to glance at his watch, “I have a bit more to prep before the guest of honor arrives. I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Jennifer Nolan, Scarlett. Have fun,” he suggested, patting Scarlett’s shoulder gently, leaving the two women alone in the dining room.

“Oh, I hope the meeting goes well,” Jennifer said in wide-eyed anticipation, her loose curls swishing over her shoulders. “Greg Atwood is a very wealthy executive in Atlanta and he’s interested in making a substantial donation to the Irish Institute. He’s meeting with Dylan tonight to discuss it. With Dylan’s charm, we should have a nice, healthy check in our hands within a week,” Jennifer joked in a lowered voice.

Scarlett had been frozen in place, barely noting the mention of wealth and money as she gazed at the long dining room table. It had recently been covered with an enormous cloth, protecting the surface from the items that had been placed upon it. There was a computer–a laptop like Carolyn used–in front of a central chair. On either side of the computer were boxes, stamps, and stacks of cards and envelopes.

Noting Scarlett’s interest, Jennifer described her plans for the evening.

“Your dining room has become our conference room, among other things. But, don’t worry; we take good care of it. It’s nice that it can be used as more than just a museum piece. For this evening, I figured we’d work it assembly-line style,” Jennifer said, approaching Scarlett. “Come see.”

At Jennifer’s touch, Scarlett took her initial step toward the table to view the set up, starting at the furthest chair. “Here are the invitations.” Jennifer lifted one card off the stack for Scarlett to peruse. The cream-colored invitation was notably simple in design at first glance, but Scarlett’s eyes caught a series of spirals faintly embossed on the upper left-hand and lower right-hand corners. If she had been knowledgeable in Celtic symbols, she could have identified it as an abstract representation of a triskelion symbol similar to that found on the entrance stone to the Newgrange passage tomb.

 

_You are cordially invited to attend the exclusive_

_grand opening celebration of the_

_Atlanta Irish Institute_

_Thursday, September 15, 2011_

_6:30 p.m.–7:30 p.m. – guided tours of the house_

_7:00 p.m. – reception_

_8:00 p.m. – dedication ceremony_

_171 Peachtree Street Northeast_

_Atlanta, Georgia_

Scarlett couldn’t help but smile knowing a grand party was going to be thrown at her home: the home she designed with the intent of festive gatherings.

“How very exciting!” Scarlett responded, her eyes glowing.

“And here is the RSVP card so we can get an idea of how many people to expect. Tonight, we’ll need to add stamps to these,” Jennifer said pointing to the envelope intended for the RSVP card. Moving down to the chair directly facing the computer, she showed Scarlett the pre-addressed envelopes. “We’ll slip the two cards and envelope in here. Then, it will need to be stamped and sealed. We have these pretty Celtic knot stickers to add a little decoration to the back of the envelope,” Jennifer said, flashing a round, gold-embossed disc in front of Scarlett’s eyes.

After viewing the sticker for only a fraction of a second, Scarlett’s attention was diverted by the sweet humming of a woman’s voice wafting in from the hall. Drawing her eyes to the open door, she soon came face-to-face with the source as Sadie Grier crossed into the room. The third member of the invitation committee had arrived, but her voice and movement was halted at the recognition of Scarlett. She opened her mouth, as if to make a swift comment, but closed it and locked eyes with Scarlett for what felt like an eternity. Then, Sadie cocked her head to the side and finally allowed words to escape her mouth.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise!” she said with a hint of acerbity that Scarlett did not pick up on. “I had no idea, Jen.”

“Dylan and I thought it’d be fun to have her help with the invitations. After all, the event is being held in her home. It’s fitting, don’t you think?” Jennifer remarked with a bright smile.

Sadie remained silent, took a deep breath, and directed her eyes to the side as if evaluating the statement. As she exhaled, she returned her attention to Scarlett, who was now beginning to wonder if her own presence had been upsetting in some way. This woman in skinny jeans and a snug t-shirt that read _Deerhunter_ across the chest looked familiar, but Scarlett wasn’t sure they had met before. What could have happened to cause a rift between the two of them?

Instantly presenting a relaxed attitude, Sadie approached Scarlett and extended her hand in greeting. Instead of initially meeting this woman’s eyes, Scarlett was distracted by the dark burgundy polish covering Sadie’s fingernails, then directed her attention down further to see the same color on her toenails, which were peeking out of a pair of open-toed black heels. Scarlett had never seen nail lacquer in that shade before, but was fascinated by it.

“I’m Sadie Grier. I don’t believe we’ve formally met. Forgive me, but can you remind me of your name again?”

“You know– ” Jennifer started, silenced by a cautionary glance from Sadie.

“I’m…my name is Scarlett,” she answered timidly, looking up at the woman who stood over a half-foot above her in three-inch heels.

“That’s an interesting name. I only know of one other Scarlett. She’s an actress.”

“Oh?” Scarlett reacted, realizing that her name was quite unusual. “Well, I was given the name Katie Scarlett, but only my father addressed me as such.”

“And what’s your surname?”

“Butler,” Scarlett answered in almost a questioning tone, wondering what answer Miss Grier expected from her. Why was she so intimidating?           

“Hmm, yes, so that’s your story and you’re sticking to it,” Sadie commented, nodding her head steadily before releasing Scarlett’s slender hand. “All right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Katie Scarlett Butler,” she said with little enthusiasm. Sadie leaned to her left to set down her fabric tote and purse next to one of the sideboards and continued to speak. “I was here when we found you after your accident.”                      

Scarlett examined Sadie and focused on her silky, smooth black hair that today was pulled back into a casual, ponytail, revealing a wisp of a widow’s peak and a long, slender neck. Her rosebud lips were painted a subdued red and thick black lashes framed her eyes.

“Oh, you were the third woman!” Scarlett realized, finally making the connection. “It was you and Peggy and Jennifer.”

“That’s right,” Sadie answered tersely, holding up a small metallic device to show Jennifer. “I come bearing the gift of music.”

“Great,” Jennifer said appreciatively. “I have a speaker dock in my office. I’ll be right back.” Before exiting the doorway to head to her office, which was housed in a former storage room next to the kitchen, she turned around and specifically locked eyes with Sadie. “Be good,” she ordered seriously.

Forming a circle with her thumb and index finger and holding it up close to her chest, Sadie presented an _I-can-handle-this_ message to Jennifer–a signal Scarlett did not catch nor would have understood.

“Say…” Sadie began, turning around and slinking closer to Scarlett. “Would you do me a favor and take a little quiz I like giving to new acquaintances? I find it’s a fun way to get to know someone on a certain level. It’s from a radio program I’ve listened to for a while; the host throws a couple of these pairings out for his weekly guests,” she explained, running her fingertips across the corner of the table. “I’ve extended it a bit for my own personal use.”

“A quiz?” Scarlett asked, uncertain of the term.

“I’ll have you compare two things and you pick your favorite,” she explained.

Scarlett eyed her suspiciously, not sure if Sadie was just having fun at her expense. Was she proposing some sort of parlor game? Sensing an India Wilkes-style aversion, Scarlett was beginning to not like her new acquaintance so very well in return.

“Let’s start. Pick your preference. The Beatles or the Stones?” Sadie asked, casually flipping the blue and silver metal object in her free hand as she leaned against the table.

“Are you asking me if I prefer a beetle or a stone?” Scarlett replied after a moment’s pause, confounded by her choices. “Now, why would I care for either of them? Neither would do me any good. Both are quite a nuisance, really,” Scarlett determined, her temper rising over her options in this silly game and the fact that Sadie was now biting her lip to keep from smiling. What was next, a plague of locusts versus a plague of hail? “I don’t think I like your game. It really serves no purpose that I can see,” Scarlett concluded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What doesn’t serve a purpose?” Jennifer asked as she returned with the speaker.

“Here, Jen, you take the quiz. We haven’t really had any discussions on your tastes before. Pick one: the Beatles or the Stones?”

“The Stones,” Jennifer answered with ease, moving to place the speaker at the edge of the table. Scarlett’s squinting eyes bored into Jennifer, wondering what she, herself, was missing in this exercise.

“Looks like I’m going to have to seek out an extension cord,” Jennifer frowned, noting the distance to the electrical outlet. “Sorry for the delay, Scarlett. You should get off your feet. You take the first chair in line. You can be the RSVP envelope stamper and invitation combiner,” she said, pulling out the chair and urging Scarlett over to it.

Scarlett extended her spine, regally situating herself in front of the chair, head held high. Besides attempting to maintain her composure, Scarlett enjoyed showing off her fine figure in her new dress with the high rounded neckline and v-shaped back. At least Sadie couldn’t tease her over her appearance. Everyone else had told her how lovely she looked today. If Sadie insulted her attire, she would be insulting Carolyn Jensen as well, and Scarlett decided that Dylan would not be pleased with Sadie over that.

“At least I’m prettier than she is,” Scarlett thought to herself, puzzled by the mix of masculine attire and feminine makeup, shoes, and jewelry that Sadie exhibited. “Her lips are so rouged she could be one of Belle’s girls,” Scarlett thought with insolence, conveniently forgetting that she, herself, partook in the practice. Staring at the lavish crystal punchbowl on the sideboard in front of her, Scarlett concluded arrogantly, “And she’ll never have anything as fine as that.”

After Jennifer settled Scarlett, she dashed out of the room in search of a longer cord, hoping not to delay the intended task much longer. Sadie’s heels clicked along the wood floor as she made her way to the third chair in line.

“I think I’ll be the envelope sealer,” Sadie announced as she took her seat. “I suppose if I asked you to choose between Blur and Oasis, you wouldn’t have a clue?” she asked plainly.

Scarlett just stared down to the other end of the table, still baffled with her choices, and did not respond.

“What about Nirvana or Foo Fighters?”

Scarlett perked up at the mention of one of her choices.

“Did you say Foo Fighters?” Scarlett asked, glad to have finally recognized one of her options.

“Yes, the Foo Fighters.”

“Oh, is this about music?” Scarlett asked, possibly making the connection for which she was desperate.

She had frequently heard mention of the name ‘Foo Fighters’ coming from the radio next to her bed. Scarlett had enjoyed leaving the device on whenever she was in her bedroom, exploring the different channels and feeling comforted by the noise and company. She recalled an omnipresent song titled _Walk_ that she heard multiple times a day on multiple stations, which she believed was attributed to the Foo Fighters. She found aspects of the song jarring to her ears, but somehow she was slowly warming up to the chorus and the song in general, and found herself humming or singing along regularly.

“So, you know the Foo Fighters? Very interesting…” Sadie said before looking away in thought.

“I do know the Foo Fighters, but I have no knowledge of the other choices you presented. Were they all different musical ensembles?

“Ensembles,” Sadie repeated with a grin, pausing on the word for a moment. “Yes, I suppose you could say that,” she answered with a swift glance at Scarlett, clearly amused. “You’re good. You’re really good,” Sadie concluded with a nod of her head.

“Success!” Jennifer announced, presenting the brown extension cord to Sadie and Scarlett. “So, did you have any more ‘I prefer this band over that band’ questions, Sadie?” she asked, plugging the original cord into the extension.

“Sure. Blur or Oasis?”

“Oasis,” Jennifer answered as she plugged the prongs into the wall outlet.

“Nirvana or Foo Fighters?”

“I think I have to go with Foo Fighters,” Jennifer decided, straightening her plain black t-shirt over her narrow hips and gliding behind Scarlett to the center chair, leaving a sweet, floral scent of perfume in her trail. “I guess I’m the envelope stamper and stuffer.” She settled into the high-backed chair and turned to Sadie, requesting, “Now, you have to give us your preferences.”

“Beatles, Blur, and, Foo Fighters. Nirvana was pretty great, but with the Foo Fighters I get more Dave Grohl,” Sadie reasoned with a grin. “Oh, how about one more pairing, a battle from my very early youth? Michael Jackson versus Prince. You’re a bit younger than me, I think, but we all know who they are–at least most of us.” Sadie aimed her last statement directly at Scarlett with an exaggerated wink.

“Yeah, they’re classic,” agreed Jennifer. “I’ll say MJ. And you?”

“Oh, Prince, definitely. Brilliant musician. _Excellent_ performer,” she praised worshipfully. “I’ve known of him forever. Can you believe that my parents didn’t have a problem with me watching his _Purple Rain_ -era videos when I was six-years old? Of course, the movie was even less suitable for children. But I was obsessed with anything Prince or _Purple Rain_ –I still am. I just pray I didn’t ask my parents ‘What’s Prince doing with that woman in the video?’” Sadie voiced with childlike innocence. “Prince promoted a rather sexual theme back then. I was a little young for that sort of introduction, don’t you think?”

“I would say so.”

“Though Mom raised me on her soaps, so, you know, what does that say?” Sadie decided, shrugging her shoulders. “You wouldn’t believe it, but all that exposure had the opposite effect on me, I think,” she concluded, smiling at the irony. “Maybe my parents knew what they were doing.”

Scarlett squirmed in her seat, slightly uncomfortable with the subject of conversation. She could surmise the topic of which Sadie was speaking. She held her breath and remained silent, flipping the corner of a stack of RSVP cards with her thumb.

“I was totally crushing on Michael in eighty-two, eighty-three,” Sadie continued. Turning her wide shoulders in Scarlett’s direction, she asked, “I’m curious what you’d think of this…considering that you _are_ from the second half of the nineteenth century. My first two crushes in memory were on Michael Jackson and Prince. I had a photo of Michael cut out of the newspaper and I would carry it around with me everywhere. I said I would marry him someday. I should add that both of them are of African descent, in case you didn’t know.”

Scarlett directed her attention to Sadie, not sure she had heard correctly. There was something challenging in Sadie’s eyes, as if she dared Scarlett to give a reaction of which she would not approve, so Scarlett remained silent, continuing to nervously create the sound of a deck of cards being shuffled over and over. Clearly, this Sadie Grier was a Northerner: there was no mistaking it in her voice. So, maybe what Scarlett had inferred was a much more normal occurrence in the North. She had always heard as much, but would never understand it. Not once as a youth had Scarlett considered a person of color as a romantic interest. It just wasn’t in the natural order of things. But in the North, people thought and acted very differently.

“You have no opinion on it?” Sadie questioned with a lift of the eyebrows after not receiving a response. “I would think you would.”

“You mean, that you were fond of darkies?” Scarlett asked, jumping at the bait, her voice glazed with superiority. “Do you mean to shock me? It doesn’t surprise me with all your talk of equality. Northerners have always been misguided fools. Why the Yankees created a terrifying existence for us! They poisoned all the darkies against us over all this foolish preaching of equality. You just couldn’t leave things be, could you?” Scarlett accused with venom, old resentments rising to the surface. “No, your childhood infatuation doesn’t surprise me. You were raised that way,” Scarlett replied haughtily.

Mouths agape, Sadie and Jennifer were frozen in place as if a sorcerer had turned them to stone. Turning her head away from the motionless expressions, Scarlett stared blankly across the table. In the process of insulting Sadie, Scarlett determined that she had also offended Jennifer, which was never her intention. Jennifer had been nothing but kindness since their first meeting. Although, she did not sound like a Southerner, either, and probably believed in equality, too.       

After composing herself and clearing her throat, Sadie gazed at the edge of the table and expressed in a speaking tone, “Wow!” It sounded to Scarlett as if Sadie had had the wind knocked out of her. “Wow!” Sadie repeated, turning her head in Scarlett’s direction once again. “I don’t think I want to know what your opinion was when you found out about our current President…that is if you didn’t already know,” Sadie added.

“What president?” Scarlett asked plainly.

“The President of the United States of America,” Sadie spelled out so there was no confusion.

“Well, what about him?”

“I’m sure you’re against his election as well,” Sadie determined, leaning in Scarlett’s direction.

Scrunching her eyebrows together, Scarlett looked to Jennifer in question, hoping she would come to her assistance.

“You don’t know, do you?” Jennifer asked in surprise. “Could it be that she hasn’t seen him yet?” she directed at Sadie. “Maybe the subject hasn’t come up.”

Jennifer opened a window on the computer and tapped her fingers over the keyboard. Once she found the photograph, she directed the screen in Scarlett’s direction.

“May I introduce you to the forty-fourth President of the United States, Barack Obama.”

Scarlett glanced at the photograph of the man posed in front of the American flag, and initially thought it was a trick. Of course the Yankees had made it possible for freedmen to be elected to the state legislature against Georgian wishes, but they wouldn’t have gone so far as to seat one as President! Though at one time, when she felt their boots on her throat, nothing the Yankees might have done would have surprised her.

“Yes, it’s true, we have a _darkie_ President–to use a word you can understand. I wouldn’t recommend using it again, however. Darkie is so passé,” Sadie instructed caustically, interrupting Scarlett’s thoughts on the matter. With a scowl, she added, “Although, he is half white, so maybe that might make you feel a little more comfortable.”

“OK. OK,” Jennifer directed at Sadie, placing her hand on her arm to cool her temper. “I know it’s not very pleasant to discover that Scarlett has nineteenth century ideas, but it’s consistent with her time. You studied history. You should know. We can’t judge her by our own standards.” Jennifer now turned to Scarlett to ease the strain clearly reflected in her tensed muscles. “It’s true. The majority in this country voted to elect this man President.”

“I’m not sure how that can be!” Scarlett directed to Jennifer. “Surely he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Surely he isn’t qualified!” she said incredulously, though not quite sure what the qualifications were to become President.

“No, he’s as qualified as many or most that have come before him. He’s intelligent, judicious, well-educated… He’s taught constitutional law. He attended Columbia University and Harvard Law School.”

“Where Wade wants to go,” Scarlett mentally noted.

“When he was elected, his journey was compared to Lincoln’s, whom I suppose you aren’t very fond of,” Jennifer concluded.

Scarlett huffed in response, confirming Jennifer’s presumption.

“I proudly voted for him,” Sadie disclosed defiantly, anxiously tapping the envelope moistener on the tabletop. “And I’ll do it again. And if I could have, I would have voted for Lincoln, too.”

Scarlett glanced down toward Sadie’s end of the table angrily, catching sight of her nemesis for only a millisecond, and half-expected to see a flash of Sadie’s tongue, as if it was her sister Sue positioned there. Scarlett was prepared to respond in kind. She couldn’t understand the hostility aimed at her from this woman who hardly knew her. No, Sadie didn’t know her at all.

“All right. Stop this,” Jennifer requested, lightly grasping Scarlett and Sadie’s slender wrists. “Scarlett. I think Sadie’s been acting this way because she doesn’t believe you’re who you claim to be. She thinks you’re pretending to be Scarlett Butler. She thinks you’re an imposter. She hasn’t been around you as much as the rest of us have to see that she’s completely wrong. She’s been testing you since she arrived,” Jennifer said calmly, turning her blue eyes in Sadie’s direction. “Your quiz was to trap her into answering a question she shouldn’t have had an answer for, wasn’t it?”

Sadie met Jennifer’s eyes briefly before returning her attention to the table; she took a deep breath.

“It should have been a gut response; she should have been tripped up by that. Everybody has an opinion on musical tastes…on the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, don’t they?”

Jennifer concurred with a hesitant nod.

“What am I doing?” Sadie exclaimed bitterly, dragging her hands to her face, pressing against her eyebrows with her fingertips as she hid her eyes. She exhaled audibly in frustration. “I’m sorry. I’m so immature sometimes,” Sadie grumbled with a shake to her head. “No matter what, I shouldn’t be treating you like that,” she apologized, bravely meeting Scarlett’s hurt eyes. “I’ve been awful: rude and disrespectful,” she said with disgust. “I understand you’ve been through a very difficult time and you don’t need me adding to it. But, you do understand how difficult it would be for someone to believe this is a case of time travel, don’t you?”

Scarlett cautiously nodded her head, confirming her agreement.

“I don’t think they’ve even been able to teleport a photon quite yet, let alone a human being,” Sadie commented. “It’s not easy for me to willingly cave in to a con artist. And whether you are or aren’t, we’ll leave that to be determined. I mean, I can’t tell you how incredible it would be if you were really _her_ , but none of us want to be played for fools.” After a brief pause, Sadie continued. “I have a habit of finding opportunities to say ‘I told you so’. And now that everyone else seems to buy your story, I have that chance,” Sadie divulged with humor.

“And my blood pressure rocketed sky high when I had to listen to that racist bullshit. I get that making judgments on someone from the past is sensitive territory. I get that. I do,” she stressed to Jennifer. “I mean…when my mom told me what my grandma called Brazil nuts–a name which I _won’t_ repeat–I was disgusted, but then I decided it was just part of the times in which she lived. I don’t think she meant to be insensitive,” Sadie explained. “And before you accuse me of a Northern superiority complex, my grandma was Wisconsin-born and raised,” Sadie clarified to Scarlett. “Unfortunately, us Northerners were more like you Southerners than you give us credit for when it comes to race. None of us Americans have a very good track record with that. But just because you’re from the nineteenth century, doesn’t mean you have to be a racist,” she said encouragingly. “And just because you’re a racist, doesn’t mean you must be from the nineteenth century. Do you get what I mean?”

Jennifer nodded, but Scarlett was confused by this logic, and subtly shook her head.

“Is that a modern term?” Jennifer asked Sadie, sensing Scarlett’s uncertainty.

“I guess it might be,” Sadie decided and shifted her body to explain. “If you need a definition–the word racist is attributed to someone who believes that one race of people is superior to another.”

“Well, isn’t it true?” Scarlett _almost_ remarked, remembering her mother’s teachings, but decided she was being labeled something unflattering in the eyes of these women, and kept her lips sealed.

“Sadly, Angelina Grimké, you are not,” Sadie commented, the reference lost on Scarlett. “You see, these days I think it’s more difficult to find a person willing to admit their prejudices publically. You clearly didn’t have a problem with it. Point in your favor for being who you say you are,” Sadie decided, nodding approvingly at Scarlett. “I have to admit that your reactions and opinions have all been consistent with who Scarlett Butler could have been. While I’m not ready to fully accept you until I have scientific proof in my hands, I do know it’s theoretically possible,” she explained, now sounding much more sensible to Scarlett. “Dylan informed me that you agreed to genetic testing. Brave move. You must be pretty confident of what the test will prove. But, either way, we’ll know soon enough if we should believe in you or not.” Sadie took a long pause, slowly inhaling a breath of the warm air. “I’ll address you as ‘Scarlett’ and direct conversation to you as if you were the woman, herself. It will make things simpler, and potentially much more interesting. Just remember, I have very legitimate doubts about you and I don’t want to be taken for a fool.”

Scarlett nodded in understanding.

“So,” Sadie began with interest, “how did you know about the Foo Fighters–if you are from eighteen seventy-one?”

Scarlett paused before answering, surprised to have received an apology so easily from a woman who seemed like she’d be ready to fight to the death if necessary. Forgiveness was not something Scarlett could grant instantly, but she decided that she easily understood Sadie’s reservations, and held some admiration for the woman who would not just accept things as they appeared on the surface.

“Um, I heard Foo Fighters from the radio,” Scarlett answered quietly. “I’ve been listening to it at Dylan and Carolyn’s.”

Sadie nodded her head in full belief, then rose from her chair and stretched her arm out in Scarlett’s direction.

“Truce?” she asked expectantly, offering her hand.

Scarlett lifted herself from the chair after a moment’s pause, and hesitantly offered her hand in return. As she glanced into Sadie’s eyes, she now found only apologetic benevolence.

“Good. Now, shall we get to work? Jen’s gonna kick us both out and put the entire packet together on her own if we don’t stop acting like children,” Sadie commented, looking down to offer Jennifer an apologetic smile. Mirroring Sadie’s expression, Scarlett released her hand and lowered herself onto her chair, prepared to take on Jennifer’s instructions and the task before them.

As they busied their hands, working in tandem, Scarlett couldn’t help but think of her time spent involved with Melanie Wilkes-led activities in groups like the Sewing Circle for the Widows and Orphans of the Confederacy. Most of the time, Scarlett was able to make up some excuse to get out of attending–especially the mystifying and tedious Shakespeare Reading Circle–but there were occasions when her dear sister-in-law had her trapped in a promise of attendance. Her participation had been a distraction from her daily routine, but she remembered the desire of wishing to be somewhere else once involved in one boring task or another. Melanie’s friends and volunteers were not as amusing or gossipy as Scarlett would have wished–unless the talk was about her and she and Melanie were out of earshot.

Initially, Scarlett found neither entertainment nor gossip with her fellow volunteers as they silently worked to find their stride. But, with focus and swift moving hands, they soon created a very efficient process. Enjoying the eclectic music Sadie had provided, Scarlett found herself securing the delightful self-adhesive stamps to the RSVP envelopes along to the beat of a song. She would easily stack envelope and card on an invitation, even the edges, and slide the trio over to Jennifer. Stamp. Combine. Tap. Pass.

At first, Jennifer had trouble keeping up with Scarlett as she struggled with the tricky openings of the envelopes. Soon she discovered that if she moved across the table from her original chair, she could use her left hand to deal with the envelope and her right–being her dominant hand–to apply the stamp and slip in the stack that Scarlett now passed beyond the crystal vase of fragrant yellow roses. Stamp. Stuff. Pass.

Sadie received the envelope from Jennifer, and completed the process by carefully applying the envelope moistener to the seal gum, smoothing down the flap, popping a sticker at the point, and filing the finished product into a box; systematically checking off completed addresses on the computer database. Moisten. Smooth. Stick. File.

When the process became routine, as if they would be able to complete the task with their eyes closed, the atmosphere’s business-like tone lifted. Sadie began to quietly sing along to a slow-crawling song in a pleasant contralto as if no one else was listening. The song evoked Scarlett’s cheerful memories of New Orleans because a portion of the lyrics recalled the French Creole Scarlett had heard on her honeymoon, and Sadie’s interpretation seemed flawless. Though, Scarlett doubted Sadie possessed the ‘Alabama frame of mind’ of which she was devotedly singing.

Then, just like a flipped switch, a fast-paced song replaced the peace of the previous one and Sadie began subtly tapping the ball of her foot and bobbing her head. Her mouth formed in the perfect Joan Jett sneer and she mouthed along to lyrics concerning a bad reputation.

Somehow, with her additional movements and distractions, Sadie was able to keep up her pace with their task. Scarlett locked eyes with Jennifer and they shared a smile, entertained by Sadie’s enthusiastic animation. But once an orchestral piece commenced, Sadie’s face softened and she appeared in a dreamlike state. Scarlett wasn’t quite sure which of these Sadies was the real one as she’d taken on so many characters in such a short period of time, from tranquil and profound to gritty and hard to sweet and wistful.

“I danced to this song when I was probably seven or eight years-old. I think I still remember some of the choreography,” Sadie revealed, momentarily closing her eyes to take in the sound and visualize the decades-old movements.

“What is it? It’s so familiar,” Jennifer asked, tossing an envelope in Sadie’s direction.

“Waltz of the Flowers, by Tchaikovsky. It’s from the Nutcracker ballet.”

“Oh, of course.”

“For our recital we had these satiny blue, jewel-toned leotards and these longer blue, Tinker Bell-style skirts made out of…I suppose sheer polyester. And around the bun in our hair was a wreath of blue flowers and flowing colored ribbons. I think my mom still has that costume boxed away somewhere.”

“So, you were a ballet dancer?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes, but never en pointe. I performed all the styles young girls do when they take dance lessons. I danced for years, though I didn’t appreciate my experience at the time like I would now,” Sadie said regretfully, affixing another sticker to an envelope.

Scarlett remained silent, listening to the sounds of the orchestra. Finding her feet springing up and down to the beat, she felt the urge to comment, “The waltz section is divine! Is this a new piece?”

“New as of maybe the eighteen nineties,” Sadie answered.

“Oh, it’s a shame. I would have enjoyed dancing to this, but it doesn’t yet exist in my time.”

“Did you…I mean do you like to dance?” Jennifer directed to Scarlett.

“It’s a great pleasure of mine.”

“Do you have much opportunity?” Jennifer continued. “Are there lots of balls and that sort of thing in Atlanta during your time?”

Scarlett hesitated on an answer, thinking of how times had changed. It seemed almost as if her dancing days were over, for she had difficulty remembering the last time her fine, slipper-adorned feet had met a dance floor for the sole purpose of dancing. Could it be that she had danced much more before and during the war than after? Now that life had become bearable, almost easy again, she had lost one of her happiest pastimes relatively early into her current marriage.

“I don’t really… Unfortunately, there aren’t as many opportunities as I would wish,” she answered honestly.

“And your husband? Does he enjoy it as you do?” Jennifer continued.

“Rhett?” Scarlett wondered, surprised to realize that she didn’t know the answer to Jennifer’s question. “I suppose he does… When we were first married, we were always at parties and he seemed to want to dance as much as I did. But he is such a fine dancer. He wouldn’t be so good if he didn’t enjoy it,” she reasoned aloud. “And he danced with me for an entire evening the second time we met. It was at a bazaar at the Armory right here in Atlanta.”

“When was the first time you met him?” Sadie interrupted curiously.

“At a barbecue at Twelve Oaks…just over in Fayette County. I met Rhett right before the war,” Scarlett provided, glancing in Jennifer’s direction as she slid another invitation set her way.

“Before the war started?” Sadie questioned. “That’s like…what…seven years before you two married?”

“Why did you marry two other men in between if you met him before you first married?” Jennifer wondered. 

Scarlett laughed. “Me marry Rhett first? Why I’ve never heard of something so absurd. There’s no possible way that–” Scarlett paused, observing the two expectant faces puzzled over her reaction. “Well, I did become engaged to Charles Hamilton that day–the first time that I met Rhett,” Scarlett stressed.

“So, his presence wasn’t enough for you to break an engagement, huh? Not love at first sight, then?” Sadie queried coolly.

Scarlett returned her attention to her set of stamps and peeled another from the backing with her slender fingers, unable to answer the question.

“Not love, ever,” she thought to herself, unsure why that now disappointed her.

“I don’t really believe in that either–love at first sight,” Sadie continued, unintentionally soothing Scarlett. “Although, I’m kind of a hypocrite considering how I felt when I first saw Matt. But, really, I guess it’s just an I-would-like-to-get-to-know-you-better feeling.”

“Oh, but I didn’t want–” Scarlett started with a shake of the head after passing another set of cards to Jennifer. “It never was my intention to meet him,” she tried to clarify, intensely focusing on peeling off another stamp, not wanting to continue a discussion for which she had no answers. Apparently these two had misguided ideas about what her life had been like with Rhett, and she couldn’t help but crush their assumptions at every turn.

“You didn’t want to meet him?” Jennifer asked with confused interest.

“Well…not especially,” Scarlett answered honestly. “What I mean is, he wasn’t the type of man– He was– I don’t think I–” Scarlett struggled. “Oh, he really is the most impossible, frustrating man!” Scarlett released impatiently, her eyes rolling to the heavens, exasperated as if Rhett, himself, had posed the question that she now was unable to answer.

“Hmm, a little Sam and Diane? A little David and Maddie? I’d be cool with that,” Sadie determined, her eyes brightening. “So, you weren’t at all interested in him, and yet you danced with him for an entire evening the very next time you met?”

“Well– Um,” Scarlett unsuccessfully attempted, finally shrugging her shoulders at a loss for an answer.

“Sometimes we just can’t explain it,” Sadie assisted thoughtfully. “That attraction. That je ne sais quoi,” she commented, pushing back the envelopes in the box to make room for another set. “When did you meet him for the second time here in Atlanta?”

“July of sixty-two,” Scarlett remembered clearly.

“And it was another six years before you married!” Jennifer exclaimed.

Scarlett found her reaction strange at first, not finding anything abnormal about that length of time. Rhett was never really courting her over that period, anyway. She was just a distraction for him when he happened to be in town and she never really considered how it appeared to her family and acquaintances in Atlanta. If she had been informed of the truth, she would have known that everyone had suspected something more serious between Scarlett and Rhett from the very start.

“We were only– Well, I suppose we were friends,” Scarlett decided, giving it a name. “Besides, he didn’t want to marry,” Scarlett stated, providing the most accurate answer she could conjure up.

“What’s that now?” Sadie asked with a chuckle in her voice; her attention heightened by the comment.

“Oh, it’s not as if I wanted him to ask me,” Scarlett defended herself, making sure not to seem so conceited or foolish that she had expected a proposal from him. “I didn’t force him or anything. Well, it’s…it’s– Really, it’s too complicated to discuss.”

Sadie looked to Scarlett quizzically and then turned her attention to Jennifer, who shared a similar expression. In attempting to read their confusion, Scarlett’s face began to redden with concern over their conclusion. She had been accused of many things, but she was no Emmie Slattery! Thankfully, Bonnie didn’t arrive until thirteen months after the wedding. There could be no damaging rumors about the reasoning for her seemingly hasty marriage to Rhett.

“We didn’t need to– It…it wasn’t necessary for us to marry!” Scarlett continued, creasing an invitation that she gripped a little too tightly, sensing she was just digging herself into a deeper hole somehow. Why couldn’t she have just said that they fell in love and had married? Any of her new acquaintances would be none the wiser.

Sadie laughed, fully entertained. “Oh, you think we think–” she started, pointing her finger between the three of them. “Couldn’t keep your hands off each other, could you?” she grinned with a devilish sparkle in her eyes, causing Scarlett’s blush to deepen. “I’m teasing. I’m teasing,” Sadie quickly added, lessening the pained expression on Scarlett’s face. “Though, don’t think that would bother me if it were true. In researching my family history, I realized that my great-grandmother’s two oldest brothers were conceived out of wedlock and I have a more distant grandmother who was unmarried through at least four or five of her oldest children before she married. We’re not sure if the father was her future husband or not. At first, I was shocked, somehow thinking that relations between young men and women back in the day were more virtuous. I was raised on _Little House on the Prairie_ reruns,after all. Now, I see that it’s the same as it’s always been,” she sighed, disappointment in her voice over her crushed romantic ideals. “I wouldn’t think anything less of you if it were true, but I don’t think you crossed that line,” Sadie decided.

Scarlett’s normally pale face remained flushed: embarrassed that she held full responsibility for introducing this scandalous topic. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Sadie’s opinion, though Scarlett knew her ideas were correct. Scarlett had known of plenty of Emmie Slatterys in her lifetime, and it was true that those women often eventually married the man who had gotten them into trouble: men like the despicable Jonas Wilkerson. Though, for Sadie to put her in the same category as a potentially fallen woman was rather distressing. Didn’t she know she came from better stock than that?

“But I am interested,” Sadie continued, “in the mystery of your relationship with husband number three. You have me intrigued now. I’m starting to believe your story more and more. I mean, you can’t make this stuff up! _You_ didn’t _want_ to marry. _He_ didn’t _want_ to marry. You didn’t _need_ to marry. Yet, you were married?”

Scarlett knew her story sounded absurd, but it was mostly true. She still wondered if their marriage was a result of her drunkenness and Rhett’s foolishness. But she would never disclose Rhett’s carnal reasoning for his proposal or the fact that she had no earthly idea why she had accepted it.

Thankfully Scarlett’s interrogators were briefly distracted by a ringing sound that echoed into the room, signaling Greg Atwood’s arrival. Sadie decreased the volume of the speakers in response. Scarlett listened as Dylan’s footsteps tramped down the hall past the closed dining room door. Moments later, a pair of muffled voices sounded through the wooden barrier as Dylan and Mr. Atwood passed by.

As the three women returned to the successful routine they had found previously, with only about a quarter of the envelopes left, the shuffling music switched to one of the bands in Sadie’s quiz.

To give her theory one more try and catch Scarlett off guard, she asked, “Scarlett, what’s the name of this band…this _musical ensemble_ , if you will?”

Scarlett listened carefully, holding a postage stamp midair, as if she knew she could give the correct answer just by devoting her attention long enough.

“I’ll give you the song title: _Baby’s in Black_ ,” Sadie offered, rocking side-to-side. “It’s from the early part of their career,” she hinted before applying her quiet voice to the vocals, singing to the envelope she was in the process of moistening.

Scarlett soon realized how silly it was for her to even attempt to name the musicians. The sound wasn’t like anything she had been hearing on the radio since she’d arrived, though she did find it very pleasant. She shook her head when Sadie looked up for her answer.

“It’s the Beatles. The band, not the bug,” Sadie revealed with a sparkle in her eye.

 Jennifer tried to conceal a smirk, charmed by Sadie’s clarification.

“See, now you might be able to recognize the Beatles if you hear them again,” Sadie offered genuinely. Scarlett nodded her head in thanks.

Sensing an opening, Jennifer procured Scarlett’s attention.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking… That song just reminded me of the various times you were married in seven or so years, having been widowed twice in that time. It’s something that’s bothered me a little since learning of your story. Your first husband was in his early twenties when you married, correct?”

Scarlett nodded in confirmation, unsure of the direction Jennifer was heading.

“That seems about right: four to five years apart isn’t so bad. He was still young, of your generation. But then you next married someone who was around twenty-four years older than you. And then your next–your current husband is about seventeen years older than you. Isn’t that strange?”

“Strange?” Scarlett questioned.

“Well, your second and third husbands are technically old enough to be your father. I always thought age difference was a detriment to a relationship. I mean, what do you have in common? You’re from different generations. What collective memory do you have to share?”

Keeping her hands busy, Scarlett directed her mind to digest Jennifer’s concerns. She supposed that Frank Kennedy’s age did bother her somewhat, with him constantly catching the grippe almost from the start of their marriage. He seemed like an old man, as if she were caring for a bedridden father. Living with him was so dull, it was almost as if from the moment she entered into the marriage, the joy had been extracted from her soul–and maybe it had as she’d been forced to make a deal with the devil to save Tara. But was it the age difference or would Frank have seemed old even if they had been the same age?

With Rhett, Scarlett never considered him old, though he often treated her as a child, she thought, frowning. Maybe the difference had affected them. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t happy. But she was happy with him for a while, early on in the marriage. They seemed to share interests in fine clothes, amusing parties, and delectable meals. And dancing, she added, recalling the earlier conversation. Often, Scarlett had difficulty keeping up with him in their pursuits. No, Rhett Butler was no aged man. Though, somehow, she felt their lives had diverged. Could the seventeen years between them have been the first crack in the widening chasm?

“Have you never given it a thought?” Jennifer continued after not receiving a response.

“No, not much at all,” Scarlett replied after her examination. “It never has been a concern of mine.”

“Did a lot of young women marry much older men?” Jennifer asked, directing her question to both women across the table from her.

“I don’t know if it happened a whole lot in the general populace, but I’m wondering if it did more so in Scarlett O’Hara’s class,” Sadie offered. “And I guess we have to take into account the loss of a large portion of the young male population due to the Civil War, too,” she added as an afterthought. “But, I mean…it may have taken the men who were her potential suitors a while to establish themselves financially. I think, just as today, they focused on their livelihoods and once they were wealthy and ready for a wife, who were they going to pick; someone like me, someone their own age, whose eggs are drying up, or a young, fertile virgin? I mean, my gosh, Scarlett’s dad was almost thirty years older than her mother!”

Scarlett drew back, pressing against the cushion of the chair, as Jennifer and Sadie looked to her as if needing confirmation. Nodding briefly, Scarlett satisfied their request.

“Most age differences don’t bother me. Though, I should add, if Scarlett married a thirty-something at the age of sixteen…that would have been a little creepy. No, a _lot_ creepy,” Sadie stated to Jennifer, her head and shoulders shuddering as if she’d just felt a icy chill in the air. “That’s like me marrying a sixteen year-old boy. Does that seem normal? No, there’s something to be said for a certain level of maturity in a marriage. I’m glad Rhett Butler at least waited until Scarlett O’Hara reached her twenties.”

Staring at the table before her, Scarlett sat uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure she liked Sadie spouting her opinions on her marriage choices, or the fact that she was referring to her as if she weren’t even present in that room, but was some long-gone figure in a history book. Why, if Sadie had been in her shoes, she may have made the same decisions. Looking back, Scarlett couldn’t see how it could have worked out any differently for her.

“Great balls of fire! Why, I would have been an old maid if I’d waited until my twenties to marry,” Scarlett said in defense, her voice rising in volume with each word.

Sadie pursed her lips to fight off a laugh before she responded.

“Good Golly, Miss Molly! I guess I’m an old maid, then. And so is Jennifer. And you know what? It’s not as bad as you think,” Sadie ended in a whisper as if informing Scarlett of a secret. “Look all I’m saying is that most girls–and a girl is what you are at sixteen–aren’t ready for a grown-up life, especially a life with a mature man. With age comes wisdom and better choices. From my experience, life becomes clearer with each passing year. I always think of that lyric…” Sadie paused momentarily, reciting it in her head once to get it right. “‘ _How could I possibly know what I want–when I was only twenty-one?_ ’ Amen, Sinead O’Connor.” Giving her focus to Scarlett, she continued, “Please don’t think I’m making a comment on your relationship. I’m sure you were very fond of Mr. Hamilton, but are you honestly going to tell me that you were ready for marriage at sixteen?”

“Um,” Scarlett voiced, diverting her eyes. Fond of Mr. Hamilton? Hardly. Clear flashes of her wedding night and the disgusting nights that followed invaded her mind. No, if she’d learned anything from that experience, it was that she definitely wasn’t ready for everything that marriage entailed.

“I didn’t think so,” Sadie continued knowingly. “I know some things were different in the nineteenth century, but I still think women shouldn’t have married until at least eighteen. As I said, age differences don’t bother me if it works for the couple. Matt’s five years younger than me and I’m totally OK with that,” she revealed to Jennifer. “Matt’s my…beau,” Sadie explained to Scarlett in a way she was sure to understand.

“But I’m a firm believer that the success of a relationship depends on shared values, not a shared age or common interests, though they do help,” Sadie continued, slipping some additional invitations into the cardboard box. “But those values are what will to keep you together or separate you. It’s not age. It’s not where you grew up. For example, I never thought I’d date someone from Alabama–where Matt was born and raised,” she explained. “I never thought I’d have anything in common with someone from there. I made unfair assumptions that the cultures of the North and South had very little overlap. The South was always so foreign to me and I admit that I had prejudice against it. I was wrong to judge the entire population as a whole when there are so many wonderful individuals here. I’m not perfect, as much as I’d like people to think I am,” Sadie revealed humorously with some color invading her cheeks.

“So, you wouldn’t have a problem dating an older man, like seventeen years older than you?” Jennifer posed.

Sadie shook her head self-assuredly.

“Who would you consider? Name a celebrity,” Jennifer commanded.

Sadie rapped her fingertips against the table in thought.

“Well, he must be a musician, of course. Chris Cornell? Hmm, I don’t think he quite makes the seventeen-year cut, but he’s close. I just need to hear his voice and…well…” Sadie broke off, fanning herself with one of the sealed envelopes. “I think… Yes, here’s another voice that makes me weak in the knees. Now, keep in mind that I’m picturing this man circa nineteen eighty-nine, but he’s still pretty hot; I bet Chris Isaak is at least twenty years older than me, but I’ll have some of that, please. Funny, damn sexy, and _Wicked Game_ ,” Sadie tallied with her fingers, “that’s all I need to know. I’d roll around in the sand with him,” she decided with an impish smile.

“Good choice. Good choice,” Jennifer complimented. “A fellow Californian. So, give us some examples. What do you and Matt share that keeps you going strong?”

“Hmm…” Sadie voiced, staring down as her mind worked out the details. “Um, well, we come from very similar families; we’re both very close with our parents. So, family is important. Education is important to us–we both have degrees. And, this is very important; we agree on money–like how to save it, when to spend it, where to spend it. Money issues often make or break a relationship.”

Jennifer nodded in agreement.

“But, really, I think it’s just about how you want to live your life that matters. What sorts of experiences do you both want? What makes both of you content? If you agree on that, all the rest is less important,” Sadie concluded.

“So, Scarlett, do you see yourself sharing specific values or a desired lifestyle with your current husband?” Jennifer posed while accepting another set of cards.

Scarlett took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled, pondering the question. Her attention had faded some as the topic of conversation had wandered away from her favorite subject–herself–and she was not prepared for, or quite sure of the answer to the question. What had Sadie said about common values and desires? Now was not the time to rake through her memories and piece together a quilt of collective ideals or wants shared between Rhett and herself, if they indeed existed. Her stomach was growling and hunger had triumphed over reflective analysis, as it always would.

Skirting the question, Scarlett asked if there was any food in the pantry besides the beverages that had been set in the adjoining room in order to keep a safe distance between the potentially hazardous fluid and the precious invitations. Sadie looked at her watch and informed Scarlett that she’d ordered a pizza to be delivered at quarter to seven and they were only ten minutes away from that destination. Scarlett wasn’t quite sure what a pizza was, but judging by the eager expression on Jennifer’s face, it must be something quite appetizing. With the reward of a meal hanging out in front of them like a carrot, the three took to their tasks like never before, reaching the bottom of their piles with minutes to spare.

After stuffing the last envelope into the box, Sadie stood up, looking as if a light bulb had just illuminated above her head. Gliding behind Scarlett, she reached for a spare invitation with the lyrical grace of the dancer she had once been. Announcing her new role as a history detective, she placed the card and a pen before Scarlett and requested an autograph. Handwriting analysis would be another important piece of evidence for Sadie Grier. Scarlett complied willingly, signing her name with dignified confidence, and watched Sadie’s wide, animated eyes examine the signature with pleasure. Soon, she would be able to compare this with an original.

Distracted by the door buzzer, Sadie was forced to set the autograph aside, dropping the card into her tote bag. She slid her feet under the table to retrieve her discarded shoes and left the dining room momentarily to meet the delivery person.

“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. It’s going to smell like a pizza parlor in here for tomorrow’s tours,” Sadie said when she returned with their aromatic dinner, clenching her teeth with worry. “The smell of pizza definitely will not generate Victorian ambiance.”

“No, I think it will be OK by morning,” Jennifer determined, watching Sadie place the pizza box near the end of the table. “I’ll check on it when I get here tomorrow.”

“You know, I was just thinking, because Scarlett is unfamiliar with a lot of bands, we should educate her on the history of music since her time so she doesn’t completely embarrass herself in front of strangers,” Sadie commented as she stepped into the pantry to retrieve paper plates, napkins, and cans of sparkling water.

“That’s a good idea,” Jennifer agreed.

“I mean, you gotta at least know the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. You don’t want to be caught asking, ‘Who’s John Lennon?’ People will think you’ve been living under a rock. What do you want, berry or lime?” Sadie asked, offering Scarlett her choice of beverage.

“Berry.”

“Good choice,” Sadie complimented, placing a pink can on a napkin in front of her own place after handing Scarlett hers.

After each filled their plates with greasy squares of pizza, Sadie got down to filing through her music collection to curate a playlist for Scarlett to experience, determining who were the shining stars of past decades–legends for all time. Going all the way back, Sadie asked if Scarlett was familiar with Stephen Foster.

She was.

It had been the only songwriter she could think of from Scarlett’s time. Sadie admitted she wasn’t that familiar with many popular artists of the late 1800s and early 1900s unless it was music from the classical genre, so she jumped ahead, beginning with an introduction to early-recorded blues and New Orleans jazz, including Lead Belly’s _Where Did You Sleep Last Night_ –the tune sounding somewhat familiar to Scarlett–and Louis Armstrong’s _Basin Street Blues_.

While Scarlett overindulged on the cheesy, saucy, salty goodness of this most fascinating meal and grew accustomed to the flavored water that tickled her tongue, Sadie introduced an offshoot of jazz called swing, including Benny Goodman’s version of _Sing, Sing, Sing_.

“OK, how about the forties? Who stands the test of time?” Sadie asked.

“How about Frank Sinatra?” Jennifer offered.

“Good choice!” Sadie replied enthusiastically, impressed by the suggestion. “Scarlett definitely should know him. But first…yes…someone that Frank Sinatra greatly admired. Let’s try this gem,” she said with a huge grin, gazing at her iPod screen. “The nineteen-thirties and forties were when the musicals really emerged as a popular film genre. It was where a story was often told through song,” she explained to Scarlett. “As much as I want to pick _The Man That Got Away_ , which is technically the fifties, we are in a lovely Victorian home after all,” Sadie determined, choosing _The Boy Next Door_. “Here she is, the brilliant Judy Garland,” she presented with admiration.

Sadie couldn’t help but stand as the lush strings began. She wiped her greasy fingers carefully on a napkin and transformed into the musing character from _Meet Me in St. Louis_.

“ _The moment I saw him smile…I knew he was just my style_ ,” Sadie sang along with the vocalist, flashing her eyes and lighthearted smile to Jennifer. Scarlett was immediately entertained, noting the playful twinkle. She watched as Sadie moved to the alcove and positioned herself on a bench near the center window. Her voice was not nearly as full or wide-ranging as the woman’s in the recording, but it was pleasantly warm and she expressed it with affection. Jennifer chuckled as Sadie raised her voice briefly above the vocalist, altering the lyrics some to suit the situation. “ _Though I live at one-seventy-one Peachtree Street Northeast…and he lives at one-seventy-three.”_

Sadie then closed her eyes and slowly swayed as they all attentively listened to Judy Garland sing, “ _And though I’m heart-sore, the boy next door…affection for me won’t display…”_ As the final lyrics began, Sadie gazed outside, and earnestly reintroduced her voice into the mix, “ _I just adore him…so I can’t ignore him…the boy…next…door.”_

Joining in with Scarlett and Jennifer’s applause was Dylan, who had quietly cracked open the dining room door moments before with Greg Atwood in tow. The instant she caught sight of the two men, Sadie blushed and a brief look of embarrassment flashed across her face, but she immediately regained her composure, rose, and gave a theatrical bow, while Jennifer reduced the volume of the speakers.

“It appears that you’ve completed the invitations,” Dylan commented, his mouth forming a playful smile.

“Yes, and now I’m subjecting my partners to one of my obsessions,” Sadie explained as she approached the men. “And just being weird, like always. Maybe I should have offered noise canceling headphones.”

“No, you sounded lovely,” Dylan praised, before turning his attention to his acquaintance. “Ladies, this is Greg Atwood. I’m giving him a quick tour of the place,” he informed them. “Greg, this is Jennifer Nolan,” he introduced as Jennifer joined Sadie. “She’s the program coordinator and a class instructor for our little operation here.”

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Atwood,” Jennifer said charmingly, stepping forward and presenting her pale hand to him. “We’re pleased that you’ve taken an interest in us. I hope you’re enjoying your visit so far.”

“I’m very impressed,” the brown-haired man replied, his eyes locked to Jennifer’s.

“We’re very excited about all the potential benefits we can bring to the community and we’ve received great feedback. I’d be very happy to meet with you if you’d like to learn more about our planned programming.”

“I would like that,” Mr. Atwood simply replied: his smile showing a deeper emotion than his words.

“Anytime,” Jennifer offered.

Scarlett could already tell that he was smitten, and felt a dash of jealousy over the fact that she wouldn’t expect to receive as much attention from this man. Though, maybe he was just partial to blondes, Scarlett decided, easing her minor disappointment. She wasn’t interested in this man in the least, but when had she ever opposed being the center of attention? Disappointingly, it wasn’t to be this evening.

“Greg, this charming vocalist is Sadie Grier,” Dylan interrupted, drawing Mr. Atwood’s attention from the angelic-looking Jennifer. “Sadie’s one of our loyal volunteers. She gives tours here once or twice a week.”

“Very nice to meet you, Greg,” she said with a firm handshake before glancing back at Scarlett, who had risen from her chair. “And this is Kate,” Sadie introduced without hesitation, drawing Scarlett forward. “She’s a dear friend of mine who’s been kind enough to help us out with the invitations tonight.”

“Nice to meet you, Kate,” Mr. Atwood kindly expressed, extending his hand to her.

Scarlett wasn’t sure why she had been introduced as ‘Kate’, but gave Greg her hand and quietly responded, “And you, Mr. Atwood.”

“As you see, this is the dining room, appearing not so pristine this evening. But, it’s nice to see it in use,” Dylan commented, looking directly at Scarlett for confirmation.

She grinned in reply. Yes, it was nice to see her dining room being lived in and not locked up as some mausoleum.

“Hopefully you can come back for an official tour, Mr. Atwood,” Sadie suggested. “We tour guides are quite entertaining, unlike this guy,” she teased, nudging Dylan. “You never know, you might even get a musical performance out of it. Come to think of it,” Sadie paused, raising a finger in mock discovery, “the reception room would be the perfect setting.”

Their guest smiled with reserve as Dylan rolled his eyes.

“OK, we’ll let you return to your old Hollywood production, girls,” Dylan offered with a wink to Sadie, which brought red back to her cheeks. “Shall we visit the reception room?” he asked, using his arm to guide Greg Atwood to the hall. “I offer no promises of a tune, of course.”

“Very nice to meet you ladies,” Mr. Atwood expressed, focusing on Jennifer as he exited the door. Dylan poked his head back in with a wicked, jovial expression before carefully pulling the door shut.

“How…about…that…Jen?” Sadie reacted with a lowered voice. “He only has eyes for you,” she declared with a teasing grin. “Did you notice? No ring. Did we just meet a most eligible bachelor? Though, he does seem a little dull…and he looked over forty, so the age difference might be too much for you.”

Jennifer flipped her hand in dismissal, rolling her eyes.

“You’re right. He is too old for me,” she said with certainty.

“But, you caught his eye,” Sadie needled. “And with little to no effort. Don’t refuse him so quickly. You never know…but…well, if you do turn him down–should he ever express his interest–let him down easy. Say you already have a boyfriend or something. I’d hate for us to give up his financial support because of a slight from you.”

“Don’t worry. I know how to be diplomatic,” Jennifer defended, clearly provoked by Sadie’s last comment.

Sadie then eyed the source of their music and decided, “How about Frank Sinatra next? Then onto the fifties? The major iconic name that comes to mind is…Elvis.” Sadie and Jennifer stated in unison.

“We’ll have to introduce him in video form. Scarlett needs to see this man in action. He’s beyond handsome,” Sadie expressed to Scarlett. “You may just fall in love. And then if you could next travel back to nineteen fifty-five, I bet we’d have an Elvis groupie in the making,” Sadie teased. “Move over Priscilla, here comes Scarlett.”

“Sadie?” Scarlett interrupted as Sadie began flipping through her artist list. “Why did you call me _Kate_?”

Sadie looked up to answer.

“We can’t go around introducing you as Scarlett Butler, now can we?”      

“Well…why?” Scarlett asked, her hands gripping the back of a chair.

“Anybody is bound to see your photograph here. At least if we say your name is _Kate_ they’ll be less likely to make the connection since, in most of the literature, you’re referred to by your middle name. People think of you as ‘Scarlett’. We’re all going to seem a little suspicious if we have someone hanging around here going by the name of Scarlett Butler who happens to look just like her.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose that’s right. You were going to keep me a secret,” Scarlett recalled. “But I’m bound to meet new people now that I’m able to be out.”

 “That was really smart–your introduction of Scarlett to Greg Atwood,” Jennifer interrupted, offering her praise to Sadie. “I wouldn’t have thought that fast.”

 “And, we’ll have to do something about that last name. How about… OK, I’m going to dig into my treasure trove of women artists. Let’s grant you with the last name of a musician I admire very much. Let’s see…it can’t stand out too much. It needs to be sort of common. How about Kate Williams? After Lucinda.”

“Who,” Jennifer asked.

“Lucinda Williams?”

Jennifer shook her head in ignorance.

“ _Right in Time? Righteously?_ I’m going to have to educate you _both_ on the important music of our time. OK, I’m not a fan of that choice. How about Kate Lynn? Spelled L. Y. N. N. or with an N. N. E.” Sadie frowned, still not satisfied. “No, sounds too much like Caitlin. Kate Parker? Kate Jones? Kate Harris?” she rattled off in succession, as Scarlett watched her pace the room. “Hmm, I’m not loving those, either.”

Sadie wandered over to the alcove and stared out to the yard bathed in the late afternoon light; briefly catching Scarlett’s reflection in the glass, she turned and said, “Wait, how in the world did I skip this one? Kate Harvey!”  
“I think I worked with a Kate Harvey once,” Jennifer commented, nibbling on another piece of pizza.

“I like it,” Sadie grinned. “And, look, Jen once worked with someone with this name. It’s probably very common. I think it’s perfect. What do you think, Scarlett?”

“So, you’ll call me Kate Harvey?” Scarlett questioned, unsure if she was comfortable with the change in identity.

“Yeah, I think it sounds pretty good. Not to mention you’ve got a goddess’ name right there,” Sadie complimented.

“Goddess?” Jennifer wondered with a laugh. “Whose surname is it, Aphrodite’s or Athena’s?” she teased, triggering a grin from her coworker.

“It’s Miss Polly Jean Harvey’s,” Sadie specified gaily. “PJ Harvey?”

Seemingly this sparked no recognition and Sadie stepped to the table and slid in front of the computer, quickly doing an image search.

“My gosh, a photo shoot with PJ Harvey, Bjork, and Tori Amos–together!” Sadie exclaimed in discovery, staring at the trio of women on the screen. “How did the world not tip off its axis with such greatness collected in one spot?”

As Scarlett stepped closer to view the images, Sadie was reminded of her initial task and clicked on a solo photograph of PJ Harvey, her modern version of a goddess. The image was of a black-haired woman, pale of skin, arms crossed below her chest, in a red and white sequined dress. Scarlett peered over Sadie’s shoulder, not thinking much of the somber-looking woman with bright red lips staring back at them from the screen. Sadie turned the computer in Jennifer’s direction, and noting there was no recognition in Jennifer’s face, Sadie continued, “OK, I’m lending you all of my PJ Harvey CDs. I didn’t even like her music at first, but now I adore her. She’s the reason for this color,” Sadie disclosed, tugging at her ponytail. “After I really got into her, I bought a box of black hair dye and have pretty much stuck with the color.”

“Oh, it looks natural,” Jennifer commented.

“Well, it’s not too far off–my hair’s dark, but not like this. Not like Scarlett’s. See, look, you already have the hair of a goddess,” Sadie complimented jealously, her fingers gently flowing through the silky strands on Scarlett’s head. “Kate Harvey, it is.”

And with that proud declaration, there clearly would be no arguing with Sadie. Scarlett was now to be known as Kate Harvey to strangers and new acquaintances for her own protection from this uncertain world. But how long would it be necessary to go by this new moniker? How long would she have to pretend to be someone she was not? Scarlett couldn’t think about that right now or it would weigh down on her very heavily. After all, wasn’t she going to find her way back home sooner than later? She could bring Kate Harvey to life today for Mr. Atwood and after that…well, she would just have to think about it tomorrow. She could only hope that someday very soon she would again be known–to everyone–as Katie Scarlett O’Hara Butler. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the formatting problems. I'm too tired to troubleshoot the html this morning :)

 

## Part One

 

### Chapter 8

 

As the days and weeks passed, Scarlett focused on adapting to her modern life as Kate Harvey while continuing to hold onto hope that soon this would no longer be a concern of hers. It was not as if she wasn’t enjoying her time in the modern age. There was much to amuse her and she had to admit that the people she lived amongst were often more sensible than those from her time. Yet, she could never shake the feeling that she was missing out on something that only her past life could provide. She craved a sense of deep connection; a link Jennifer Nolan had referred to as the collective memory. However, each day the bonds she was forming with her rescuers grew stronger and unexpectedly, they had become a sort of family to her. Scarlett was thankful for that.

Dylan and Carolyn had been a godsend, and though she hated to become overly reliant on their hospitality, she decided that she would never tire of their company and would always want them to be a part of her life. What Scarlett didn’t want was to be a burden on them for the rest of _her_ life. She continued to press Carolyn on ways she could return to 1871, but Carolyn became less and less optimistic with each conversation she had with her scientific contacts. It was not good news. While Carolyn hadn’t come right out and explained specifically why she needed information on time travel, the responses were all very clear; it could not be done at this time with the current technology.

While Scarlett was grateful that Carolyn did not sugar coat this news, it still hurt. But rather than sit and sulk like she had for the first few days after learning this information, Scarlett determined that she needed to move on and learn how to create her modern self, Kate Harvey or otherwise. She requested that Carolyn use her for any household tasks that needed completion and teach her how to live independently. It would take a miracle for Scarlett to return home–a miracle Scarlett still clung to–but in the meantime, she wasn’t going to waste the hours away crying over things that may never come true.

Carolyn put her to tasks such as running the washing machine and dryer, filling the dishwasher with dirty dishes and emptying them once they had been cleaned, and sweeping the floors and vacuuming the carpets whenever she needed extra help. Either Carolyn or Dylan would take Scarlett along to the grocery store and taught her about the various ways to make a payment. They even included an introduction to a clever machine called an ATM, which gave the impression of free, limitless money. Scarlett could never contain a rapid heart beat when she viewed a stack of greenbacks, even if some featured the face of Abraham Lincoln now. She was amazed by the selection of products available on the colorful shelves of the grocery stores they visited. How could anyone ever make a decision on even which variety of milk to purchase? At the house, Scarlett also learned how all the kitchen appliances worked, and was asked to assist in preparing meals each day. If nothing else, Scarlett hoped she could earn her keep by lifting some of the burden of everyday living from Carolyn’s shoulders.

Scarlett even offered to help with the children, especially when she knew Carolyn was deep in concentration with her research or had conference calls with her collaborators. At times, when Scarlett held Aidan in her arms, heartrending emotions rose up knowing how close she had come to having a new baby of her own, but usually she could push those thoughts from her mind. Yet, time spent with Olivia was not much simpler given she had just left behind two young daughters. It felt strange devoting such time to the children, especially when they weren’t even hers. Scarlett needed to soothe her guilt by remembering how many responsibilities she had had on top of caring for her own children. Wouldn’t she have spent time like this with them had she not had so much else on her plate? Scarlett never took the time to answer that question, instead blaming fate for putting up an impenetrable wall between her and her children: a wall of space and time. She couldn’t even repair those bonds if she had desired it.

Her relationship with Olivia Connolly warmed over this period. On any given day they played dress-up, read newly acquired library books, and tackled arithmetic puzzles. On the day the four of them visited the Georgia Aquarium on Carolyn’s volunteer passes, Scarlett knew that Olivia had finally grown comfortable with her presence. As they gazed into the tank of graceful, yet eerie, glowing orange jellyfish, Olivia took Scarlett’s hand and presented her with an enormous smile as if she knew Scarlett was just as mesmerized as she by the underwater creatures. And Olivia clung to Scarlett’s hand as they planted themselves in front of a massive transparent wall in a darkened theater searching for an elusive whale shark amongst the thousands of other smaller creatures. Later, Carolyn told Scarlett how tickled she was to see her as animated as a young child when she’d viewed the garden eels, leafy sea dragons, and beluga whales, though, every new discovery seemed to have had this effect on her.

Scarlett had received several welcome gifts soon after the day she first visited her Peachtree Street mansion, including the requested photograph of her young O’Hara family. Dylan had snuck into her bedroom one morning while she slept, carefully and quietly removed the fan from her bedside table, and placed two photographs in its place. As Scarlett rolled to her right side that morning, she smiled at the display, seeing that Dylan had sweetly kept his promise and had added a photo of her Butler family as a surprise. She kissed each frame and held them to her chest that first morning, tears bubbling to the surface. Looking to the image of the mother she once believed to be the Virgin Mary, Scarlett prayed to her for the strength to hold out for a miracle. If she could only look on her mother each day, she knew she could face it with optimism. Dylan had given her that opportunity. And she had all the motivation she needed in seeing her three children looking to her from the more recent photograph. She refused to abandon them. Even Rhett urged her back, if only so she could face him once more and give him a piece of her mind. Though, the longer she stared at his image, the feeling altered as she sensed the encouraging force behind his eyes that she realized had always aided her through difficult times. His image, too, might just guide her out of this most impossible trial.

Another gift arrived unexpectedly several days after her first official meeting with Sadie Grier. The woman, herself, sent a shoebox along with a note that read:

            _To my newest of acquaintances, Kate Harvey._

_I hope this finds you well. I do apologize for my behavior in our first meeting. The devil child does come out roaring at times. She’s very unruly and I have very little control over her. I swear. (this is your cue to smile and/or laugh)_

Against her will, Scarlett experienced the former.

_To make it up to you I’ve had Dylan deliver an older MP3 player of mine and a set of CDs. The MP3 player has some of my favorite music on it. It also has an FM radio, so you can catch the Foo Fighters anytime you want, anywhere you want. I’ve given Dylan full instructions on how it operates, so make sure he teaches you how to use it. You’re welcome to borrow it for as long as you wish._

_The first CD covers the 1930s and the last covers the 2000s._

_I hope this collection brightens your days ahead._

_Sadie Grier_

_P.S. I hope you like chocolate._

She didn’t just like it; she loved it. Scarlett pulled out two boxes of _Salty Dog_ chocolate bars from the shoebox, set them aside, and then flipped through the CDs, taking note of some of the song titles.

 

_‘Goodnight, My Love’                           Benny Goodman/Ella Fitzgerald_

_‘Georgia On My Mind’                          Django Reinhardt_

_‘Cheek to Cheek’                                 Fred Astaire_

_‘Summertime’                                      Sidney Bechet_

 

_‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree’          Glenn Miller_

_‘Coquette’                                           Louis Armstrong_

_‘Stormy Weather’                                Lena Horne_

_‘This Land Is Your Land’                     Woody Guthrie_

 

_‘Great Balls of Fire’                             Jerry Lee Lewis_

_‘Rave On’                                           Buddy Holly_

_‘Long Time Gone’                              The Everly Brothers_

_‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’                         Hank Williams_

 

_‘I Saw Her Standing There’                 The Beatles_

_‘Ring of Fire’                                       Johnny Cash_

_‘You Keep Me Hangin’ On’                 The Supremes_

_‘You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me’      The Miracles_

 

_‘It’s Too Late’                                      Carole King_

_'_ _You’re So Vain’                                  Carly Simon_

_‘Back Home Again’                              John Denver_

_‘Landslide’                                         Fleetwood Mac_

 

_‘Material Girl’                                     Madonna_

_‘Unsatisfied’                                        The Replacements_

_‘The Beautiful Ones’                            Prince_

_‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’                      Joy Division_

 

_‘Army Of Me’                                        Bjork_

_‘One’                                                    U2_

_‘Nothing Compares 2 U’                       Sinead O’Connor_

_‘Blue’                                                   The Jayhawks_

 

_‘New’                                                   No Doubt_

_‘Maps’                                                 Yeah Yeah Yeahs_

_‘Lost Cause’                                         Beck_

_‘Lost In Space’                                     Aimee Mann_

 

Scarlett smiled widely after perusing her set of gifts and Dylan reminded her that Sadie was not so bad after all, knowing that Scarlett had voiced several complaints about the woman on the ride home the night of their first meeting. Well, maybe she wasn’t as bad as Scarlett had originally thought. At least Sadie gave her a small means of curing her boredom, which had begun to sink in as her physical ailments had receded. After investigating all the CDs, Scarlett had Dylan teach her about the MP3 player and from that point on, whenever she stepped away from the family for a rest, they knew they could find her stretched out on her bed, eyes closed and ear buds inserted, oblivious to anything else going on around her.

One evening, when Carolyn had the children occupied and Dylan sat reading a book with a horse illustrating the cover–the jacket image being the only reason the title _Bright’s Passage_ happened to catch Scarlett’s eye–Scarlett felt completely useless. She hadn’t much felt like listening to music that day or doing much of anything, and she sighed deeply, wondering if she should take a walk outdoors to relieve the monotony. Never since her youth had she had so much time on her hands, and then she had friends to ride with or to conceive of adventures that involved hiding in the woods, climbing trees, or even running away from home. Scarlett didn’t much want to climb trees today. She didn’t really know what she wanted.

Releasing another sigh, she plopped herself down on the sofa and lifted the copy of _Harper’s Bazaar_ from the table,flipping through pages covering the new fall fashions without her typical focus. What good was knowing about the newest trends when she had a non-existent bank account, and really had no place to show off the garments even if she could afford to make some new purchases. She wasn’t about to ask Dylan or Carolyn for money. They had already been much too generous with her considering their limited income.

At times, during recent years, Scarlett had longed for the simplicity of her childhood, but now that she was as dependent as young Olivia Connolly, she realized what a blessing it had been to be an adult who could make her own decisions and provide for herself. If life had to go on like this, getting out of bed each day would be harder than the last. What good was she now to anyone? What purpose did she serve in this modern world? She would rather not think about it.

Scarlett hadn’t noticed Dylan’s frequent glances her way that evening as he examined her melancholy. He had begun to notice these moments of heartbreaking gloominess in the last week, though when pressed, Scarlett would brush off his concern and put on a cheerful facade. Scarlett’s life was certainly in limbo. Dylan couldn’t imagine how one would move on after learning the news that you could never return to the life you’ve always known. At what point does one break down from that realization? And at what point does the strong person they knew Scarlett Butler to be take the next steps toward a brand new life? He had no doubt she could do it, and in a way she had already begun, but up to this point, he had been unsure of how to aid her in this transition.

Dylan stepped to the sofa and took a seat next to Scarlett, clearing his throat first and then speaking Scarlett’s name, neither garnering a reaction. Sliding the marker to the center of the book that was still in his hand, he snapped it closed, producing a loud clap and a subsequent jolt out of their guest. In this round, Dylan would not accept Scarlett’s rehearsed dance around the issue. While prying out and helping analyze what was weighing on her mind, he introduced a solution to assist in removing some of the tedium from her current life, offering her an opportunity to contribute something to the here and now. Scarlett was going to volunteer her services to the Atlanta Irish Institute. Starting the next day, Dylan would have a carpool companion to downtown Atlanta for the first of many trips. Scarlett would prove to be good company. Her spirit seemed to brighten each time she made the journey to her Atlanta residence.

Dylan wanted Scarlett to work with Peggy, Jennifer, and James on questions they had about the Butler household and to fill in the gaps, as there always would be in the history of anything. Scarlett went over her silver and china collections with Peggy, informing her of what was missing from the house and answered more of James’ questions that had surfaced since they had last met. And Jennifer sat her down to inquire about any Irish traditions Scarlett may have encountered in her life with Gerald O’Hara or had carried on with her own children, thinking they could also celebrate those traditions here with the public. Scarlett also recounted her Irish family history and the tales her father had told her throughout her childhood. Jennifer even heard a few songs that Gerald had brought with him from Ireland, including “The Wearin’ O’ The Green” in Scarlett’s rusty soprano, which was soon joined by Dylan’s warm tenor as he caught wind of the tune from across the hall, the duet bringing a vibrant smile to Scarlett’s lips.

But what Scarlett found most rewarding was the time spent planning for the party to come on the fifteenth of September. She was able to contribute suggestions for the menu, entertainment, and decorations that could be obtained to reproduce the flavors, sound, and appearance of her crush back in 1868. Scarlett had been promised full-involvement in the festivities and would work closely with everyone to make it a night to remember. Finally, she felt useful for something fun and exciting, not just the everyday chores of life. This would be another grand party, another chance to christen this home and dismiss the sad ghosts who certainly must linger there at night. How she would impress this new generation of guests! They would exclaim, ‘What a fine woman Scarlett Butler must have been to have kept such a lovely home! And what strength and reverence her family possessed to preserve this most beautiful of places!’

Some days, Carolyn would come into town and return Scarlett to Marietta before Dylan’s day was done, another day they would move on to a meeting with her social worker, Vanessa Davis, and on a few select days Scarlett remained downtown a full day, only to return to Marietta in the evening. On these longer days, either Dylan or Jennifer would take Scarlett out during their lunch break to get to know the layout of modern Atlanta on foot.

One of Scarlett’s fondest memories of those days, in hindsight, was being out with Jennifer on a stroll through Centennial Olympic Park and examining a plaza of grated rings spread out on a multicolored brick surface. Scarlett had just been informed that this was the site of an enormous fountain, but Jennifer had wondered aloud if it was not currently operational as all had been still for as long as their eyes had been on it. Scarlett was in for a mighty shock when the spouts instantly came to life, a ring of water separating she from Jennifer. While Jennifer remained free, Scarlett happened to have her feet inside one of the rings at the time. Instead of attempting to make an escape, Scarlett retreated to the dry center of the circle, letting out an explosive, “Name of God!” As she studied the random choreography of the five rings of water to the soundtrack of Jennifer’s laughter, she thought she might have to remain there until her death, for she wasn’t going to ruin her fine skirt with a violent burst of water and show the world what was hidden under said skirt. Slowly she inched her way to the edge of the ring at Jennifer’s encouragement, feeling the refreshing, cool mist on her bare skin, but couldn’t seem to make the leaping, timed escape when Jennifer directed her with a ‘ _Now!’_ When she couldn’t take one more second of her own cowardice, Scarlett finally leapt safely to the other side and showed Jennifer her famous O’Hara temper by marching back to her house well ahead of her innocent companion, yelling, “You should have warned me!” then providing the silent treatment. Later that day, Scarlett was be able to share a laugh with Jennifer over the incident; looking back, she would declare it a most humorous episode and recall her successful escape from the fluid bars of her Olympic ring cell. She might even like to try it again.

When her new friends were occupied by their workday responsibilities and unable to entertain her, Scarlett would take to roaming the house, sometimes running up the main staircase as quickly as her healing body was able, hoping she could travel through that tunnel Carolyn was always talking about. If it wasn’t there, where was it? Scarlett journeyed from room to room, opening each and every door, whether it led to a closet, a hidden dust shoot, the empty coal storage room, or even to a cubby in a secretary desk. She would swiftly jump through any opening she could fit through, though she never ended up anywhere different. But there must have been some way to connect the present to the past. The past most definitely had been connected to the present. As much as she was enjoying her time here as of late, there would be no hesitation on her part if she found the secret passageway. Scarlett would take the leap without a second thought. She had too much invested in the past, and navigating the present and the future would be an entirely uphill battle and she didn’t know if she had the will to fight on.

Occasionally there were tours being conducted while she was present at the site and she was instructed to keep her distance. Sometimes she was caught in her bedroom when she heard a tour group ascend the stairs. Thankfully, many of the rooms were connected throughout the house and she had several escape passages, only requiring proper timing to vanish. Try as she might, she could never quite hear what the guides were saying.

Once when Sadie was conducting a tour, Scarlett snuck to the back of the attentive pack, careful not to be noticed by the strangers. This was the only way she would be able to clearly hear what was being said about her, and she mistakenly thought Sadie wouldn’t object to her presence. The moment Sadie set eyes on Scarlett, she suggested the group enter the playroom and look around for a few minutes, after which she would join them. Once all the official tourists disappeared through the doorway, Sadie blocked passage to Scarlett, giving her a suspicious glare.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” she questioned in a whisper, folding her arms across her chest. Scarlett remained silent and directed her eyes downward, feeling as if she had been caught behaving badly by Mammy or her mother. “Dylan should have given you silicone earplugs if you were going to be anywhere near these tours. Didn’t you have an agreement with him? You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Scarlett pouted, finding it more and more frustrating to not know of her future. It wasn’t as if she would make her way back to the past anyway. Hadn’t all the scientists said that it was impossible? She certainly had found no luck in her investigations so far. What harm would it do her to find out some new information on what her spiritless other half was up to in 1871 and beyond? As it was, her life was frozen in time. Why she might as well have been dead. And she didn’t so much like the idea of being dead yet.

“Go on,” Sadie directed, waving her hands as if the breeze created would carry Scarlett away like a feather. “Skedaddle.”

“Pardon me? I’m not quite sure of what you are speaking?” Scarlett asked innocently, hoping to annoy Sadie with her false confusion and delay her further. It would serve her right for trying to shoo her away as if she were a stray cat. This was her house after all!

“No. I don’t have time for this,” Sadie replied with calm frustration, noting Scarlett’s ploy immediately. “If you refuse to move, I promise you, I’ll only talk about your life pre-July eighteenth, eighteen seventy-one. I swear it. You’ll not hear one exciting tidbit from me. Sadly, neither will they,” Sadie stressed, directing her thumb towards the playroom. “Do you think our guests are prepared for an encounter with a ghost?”

Scarlett’s pout reappeared, and she would have stomped her foot had she not known how childish it would have made her appear. It didn’t take long to realize that Sadie was an obstinate person. There would be no sweet-talking to change her mind.

“All right. I’ll leave you be,” Scarlett reacted, fire burning in her eyes. “You must believe I’m Scarlett O’Hara, now. Otherwise, you’d let me stay,” she commented haughtily. “Maybe I’ll join one of James’ tours next time. He’s sweet to me. I’m sure he won’t treat me like this. He’ll let me learn a thing or two.”

As Scarlett’s feet loudly plodded down the staircase, Sadie leaned over the banister and quietly concluded, “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Tightly grasping the banister, Scarlett turned her glaring green eyes upward, but Sadie had already returned to her tour group. Scarlett huffed, as she sluggishly descended the length of the stairs. How could Sadie be so kind one minute with her thoughtful gifts, and then so insensitive the next? Scarlett knew she had broken the rules in that moment, but couldn’t someone show her some mercy? She hadn’t committed a crime. She hadn’t hurt anyone. Why did they have to keep her in the dark so often? Was she to die of shock if she were to learn something? She’d been through the worst hells in life already. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t survive now.

Well, she wouldn’t let Sadie ruin her pleasant mood today, for tomorrow Peggy was to take Scarlett to see Tara for the first time as it was now. James had prepared its former resident for what to expect when she arrived. Apparently, the land surrounding the house was quite developed now and would most likely be unrecognizable to her. It really wasn’t a surprise, as nothing much had remained the same over the last 140 years. However, she was assured that the sprawling brick house still stood, a testament to Gerald O’Hara. Disappointingly, the land was no longer in family hands, but this building was also on the National Register of Historic Places and so it would be preserved for future generations of O’Hara’s to visit. Currently, it served as a bed and breakfast and a pleasant site for weddings and receptions. Scarlett recalled that the first wedding held at Tara was that between she and Charles Hamilton; hardly the most blessed union to have christened the location. Scarlett hoped that the couples married there in subsequent years found much better luck with matrimony than she had experienced.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a minor mature language warning for this chapter. Also, I borrow lyrics from Brother Ali's song "Pedigree". Enjoy!

 

## Part One

 

### Chapter 9

 

_Friday, August 19._ Scarlett couldn’t believe it was already August 19! For just over a month, she had been absent from the life she had always known. In some respects, the time away felt like an eternity, but yet, her last moments of 1871 were still so clear in her mind that it seemed her accident had only occurred the previous morning. Thankfully, the physical reminders of that time were fading–soon, so would her thoughts of that dreadful incident. Other memories would surely be triggered this day–hopefully joyful ones–because today was the day she was to visit Tara. So far, her excitement overshadowed the anxiety of seeing the place so changed, but she acknowledged that the reminders of the past, distant and more recent, could be upsetting. Scarlett was grateful that Peggy would be with her should she need some comfort, for Peggy Byrne was always so caring and motherly with her.

Scarlett hovered around the window at the front of the house like a cat waiting for its owner to return, her pale green eyes scanning the street for any sight of Peggy’s red SUV. Taking another glance at the clock above the sofa, she noted that it was already two minutes after nine: nine having been Peggy’s declared arrival time. Each additional minute added to the clock caused Scarlett to clasp her hands a little tighter and wiggle and twist her wedding band with increasing intensity. She began to wonder if Peggy was still cross with her after yesterday’s incident and had decided not to come. Scarlett was ashamed of attempting to sneak a peek at the now uncovered panels in the carriage house while Peggy had been occupied with a customer. Apparently, Peggy had eyes in the back of her head, for she caught Scarlett before she had a chance to get close enough to the panels to really decipher what they contained. And Peggy had not been much more understanding than Sadie in her reprimand, questioning whether it had been such a good idea for Dylan to have left Scarlett to her own devices while on site. Twisting her mouth to the side as she caught sight of a blue jay zooming past the porch, Scarlett decided she would not attempt any more explorations of her missing past…at least for a while. It was no use aggravating her friends and, really, what use would the information be to her now?

At quarter after nine, a car finally pulled into Dylan and Carolyn’s driveway, immediately allowing Scarlett to release her contained breath. She didn’t recognize the gleaming white car, but just as Dylan and Carolyn had multiple vehicles and she had multiple carriages, she decided it must be Peggy. Quickly snatching the purse and sunglasses that rested on the table near the front door, Scarlett was ready to make her exit into the fresh Marietta air.

“Oh?” Carolyn voiced with surprise, halting Scarlett from rotating the doorknob.

“What? Isn’t it Peggy?” Scarlett inquired, disappointment seeping into her question.

“No, it’s…” Carolyn began to answer as her eyes followed the car owner’s figure up the front steps. A moment later the doorbell rang and Scarlett, her hand still on the knob, pulled open the door with great curiosity.

“Hi guys, sorry I’m late,” the woman addressed to Carolyn and Scarlett, pulling the sunglasses from her eyes as she stood in the shade of the porch.

“Sadie, what are you doing here?” Carolyn asked.

“Didn’t Dylan call you?” Sadie replied, surprise and a hint of frustration in her voice.

“No.”

“Now I see why there’s such a shocked expression on our guest here,” Sadie began, pointing to the suddenly pale Scarlett with her folded sunglasses. “I told him this wasn’t the best idea. I told him they should postpone it, but we all knew how Scarlett had her heart set on visiting Tara today. This morning, Jim, Peggy’s husband, had an adverse reaction to some medication he’s taking and Peggy took him to the hospital to get checked out. She needed to cancel her trip out here and I know she feels terrible about it. She called Dylan hoping that you would be able to take her, but he reminded her that Olivia–hi Olivia,” Sadie greeted sweetly as the girl popped out from behind her mother. “Yeah, that Olivia had a doctor’s appointment this morning. So, then, since I was volunteering in Peggy’s place at the entrance, Dylan suggested that I take Scarlett and that he could fill-in for me temporarily. He was going to try and see if another volunteer could come in an hour or two earlier. And luckily I hadn’t scheduled anything else for the day because Matt’s returning home this afternoon. So, long, complicated story short, I’m taking Ms. Byrne’s place today. Dylan was supposed to call you and let you know I was coming and was running a little late. I guess in all the chaos, he didn’t have time.”

Scarlett clutched the bag in her hands, blindly staring at the doorframe, attempting to recreate the day’s images in her mind, now with Sadie as her guide. They certainly weren’t the best of friends and Scarlett had so looked forward to Peggy’s company this day. It was difficult to hide her disappointment.

“How is Jim?” Carolyn asked. “Have you heard?”

“Yeah. I don’t know many details, but everything seems to be fine now. Peggy just wants to keep an eye on him today. So… Scarlett, it looks like you’re ready to go. I hope you don’t object to me being your chauffeur. Honestly, I’d rather go with Peggy myself, if I were you,” Sadie said, giving her a genuine smile in an attempt to reverse the woeful look on Scarlett’s face. “Just say the word and we can cancel.”

“No! No, I would still like to go,” Scarlett answered immediately. Her heart had been set on Tara today. She would have even traveled there with India Wilkes if she were the only option, and her hate for her had reached its pinnacle in the last several months. Sadie surely was not as bad as her…or could she be worse? Well, still, it didn’t matter who brought her to Tara as long as she could get there.

“Good. People ask lots of questions about Tara on tours and I always have the same spiel to give. This will provide a good morning of research and some fresh ideas.”

Sadie took a step back and repositioned her sunglasses over her eyes.

“Your carriage awaits, m’lady.”

Scarlett fought a smile and stepped into the refreshingly cool morning air. After Scarlett passed Sadie to the short set of steps, Olivia called from the door.

“Bye, Scarlett.”

“Goodbye, Liv,” Scarlett responded while pushing her sunglasses on. It was gratifying to know that the little girl seemed to miss her when she went away, though they had spent quite a bit of time together recently. The reserve Olivia shared with Carolyn had finally melted away to reveal the warm heart she had inherited from Dylan. Olivia’s goodbye brought back memories of how Wade would catch her on her departures from Pittypat Hamilton’s home in a similar way when he was very young. He mostly steered clear of her now. Thoughts of her son would be very strong today as she visited his birthplace and where he spent several of his difficult early years.

“Have a good time,” Carolyn encouraged. “Thanks, Sadie,” she added quietly before Sadie stepped away with a nod.

Indeed playing the role of chauffeur, Sadie opened the passenger door for Scarlett to enter the immaculate car. Scarlett was used to children’s car seats and toys littering the space, but she didn’t even find one scrap of paper on the floor or one dust particle on the dashboard. There was even a pleasantly fresh smell to the space instead of the scent of baby wipes of which Scarlett was now accustomed.

The agreeable space became less so, momentarily, when Sadie pushed a button to start the engine of the vehicle and a heavy sound came blasting from the stereo speakers causing Scarlett to shove her fingers in her ears.

“Ooo, sorry,” Sadie apologized before immediately turning down the volume. “I know for a fact that I’m going to be deaf by the age of fifty. I suppose it’s too early in the day for Mastodon, anyway. If I had known that we were taking a little journey today, I would have put together a traveling home-themed playlist. We’ve got a long haul ahead of us,” she commented, fiddling with her music device and setting it on shuffle.

The hour-long journey to Tara was sure to include some awkwardness as a slight distrustful air still hung between the two women, but both took the risk of spending a full two hours alone together in an enclosed space. This had already been a positive step, though each would surely question the other’s honesty, amiability, and even sanity today.   For Scarlett, the trip began with the funny, yet initially confusing experience of her driver’s impatience behind the wheel. At first, Scarlett wondered if Sadie’s quietly-grumbled words had been aimed at her–or was Sadie speaking to herself or some imaginary being? Was she truly in safe company with Miss Grier or had the others placed her in the care of an eccentric? Soon after ever-so-subtly inching closer to the passenger door to provide a safe distance, Scarlett realized that Sadie had been addressing the unhearing drivers ahead of her, asking, with hints of boredom and disdain, why it was that they wouldn’t move their vehicle when the traffic light turned green, why it was that they found it necessary to drive at a snail’s pace, or why they seemed to have no idea where they were going. Peppered throughout the one-sided conversations were enough curses to have given Gerald O’Hara some stiff competition. Though Scarlett was rather unfamiliar with Sadie’s preferred profanities, the intent was clear, and it was truly a novelty to hear a woman openly speak this way.

Some of the curses also came about when Sadie’s obviously loose sun visor, which was blocking the eastern sunlight, swung and lightly tapped her on the side of her head on left turns or sharper curves in the road. Scarlett finally discovered the hilarious cause after the first few incidents when Sadie put her hand up to hold it anticipation. Scarlett was unable to contain a small outburst of laughter that was eventually echoed by Sadie.

With the exception of the music streaming out of the speakers, Sadie’s random surges of frustration, and Scarlett’s subsequent giggles, few words were shared during much of the journey. Sadie gave her attention to the road, while Scarlett’s main focus was on the new scenery she hadn’t yet witnessed south of Atlanta. For most of her life, there had been just scattered civilization between Atlanta and Jonesboro. The route was now so densely, seamlessly developed that no prior landmark would have stood out to assist Scarlett in placing her position along it. How could the umpteenth Waffle House give her any sense of place? What was disturbingly strange was that in seeing this area as it was now, Scarlett had difficulty in remembering how it had been. Could she have forgotten her era so quickly?

One of the most exciting new visuals she encountered on the drive was that of the giant planes making their descent over the road near Hartsfield-Jackson airport. Never before had she been so close to these floating giants, which she had watched as miniature versions in the bright blue sky during her walks around Marietta. She was amazed that something so large and heavy could hang in the air. The nearby roar of the engine was one of the most powerful sounds she had ever heard outside of war. It was the kind of sound that would make one believe in fire-breathing dragons.

“Have you ever been in an airplane, Sadie?” Scarlett asked, craning her neck to keep an eye on the disappearing tail of a jet.

“Yeah, many times.”

“Is it frightening?”

“Um, yes, I suppose, but I mostly find it thrilling. It’s a great way to see the world from a new perspective, you know. When you’re up there, you realize that you and I, all of us, we’re just grains of sand on this planet. But I love flying because I’m always so excited to see someplace new and I know I’ll reach it usually in less than ten hours.”

“How far away have you traveled?” Scarlett asked curiously.

“I think the furthest I’ve landed from home was Prague.”

“Where’s that?”

“In the Czech Republic.”

“Where’s that?” Scarlett continued, wiggling to pull her black shorts further down to cover a bit more of her thighs.

“It’s in Europe. Maybe you would know it better as part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, controlled by the Habsburgs in your time. As we know it now, the Czech Republic is a country between…” Sadie paused to map out the image in her mind. “It’s sandwiched between Germany, Poland, and Austria.”

“I’d like to visit Ireland in that manner–by airplane. Dylan said I could someday if the Institute organizes a tour.”

“You should. Ireland is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen,” Sadie declared. “Just gorgeous…” she repeated as Scarlett’s lips grew into a smile. She was pleased to know her father hadn’t exaggerated about Ireland’s greatness. No one had said one bad word about it since she had arrived here–not even the opinionated Sadie. No matter what, Scarlett O’Hara determined that she would set foot in Ireland someday. She wouldn’t allow herself to breathe her last breath before taking in some of that cherished Irish air. It was a part of her and she was a part of it.

As each minute passed, Scarlett knew they were getting nearer and nearer to their destination. As the miles remaining on their journey decreased, Scarlett’s restlessness went in the opposite direction. Once they reached Jonesboro, Tara–or what was left of it–would soon follow. Her fingers began to tap lightly against the armrest, the band of her engagement ring causing the most clatter, as she stared out the window and chewed her lower lip nervously. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to ask Sadie to speed the rest of the way there or to turn the car around and head back to Marietta, as her emotions churned in her stomach. Maybe she would be best left with only her memories.

The beats of a song Scarlett could now categorize as hip-hop flooded the speakers, distracting her from these thoughts. The sound left Scarlett wishing Sadie would switch to a different song–maybe something by that handsome Mr. Presley. This style of music had not been one that Scarlett had latched onto yet, nor did she think she ever would appreciate it. She watched Sadie instinctively bob her head and sway her shoulders to the beat in fits and starts. Flashing a smile in Scarlett’s direction, Sadie possibly had hopes that Scarlett might join in and release some of her obvious tension, though Scarlett remained immobile. As the chorus came around a second time, Sadie gave her attention to Scarlett, took on the character of the lyricist, and confidently recited:

_One behind the next in line_

_It’s inspection time let me check your design_

_Your pedigree don’t hold up next to mine_

_I’m a thoroughbred of the most excellent kind_  

Misunderstanding Sadie’s goal of easing her worry with a little silly musical distraction, the conclusion of the song’s chorus had the reverse effect on Scarlett. A frown appeared across her lips and the muscles of her chin tightened as she was somehow reminded of similar comments made by her husband who only gave merit to her French Robillard line and seemingly thought of himself as a work of perfection. Never was her complete heritage good enough for him. Only because she had Robillard blood, would their daughter have a chance. Rhett certainly didn’t make it a secret that Scarlett’s Irish blood had the potential to taint an otherwise perfect child and he had yet to concede that Bonnie was undeniably a miniature version of Gerald O’Hara. Scarlett’s frustration on this subject was triggered by the lyrics, heighted by her current unresolved conflict with Rhett, and expressed out of a need to release the anxiety building within her.

“What’s that sour look for?” Sadie questioned with puzzlement as Scarlett focused her sad eyes on the glove box.

“Well… You probably think I’m trash, too, for being Irish.”

Sadie, at a loss for words, took her own moment to question the sanity of her passenger. Drawing her chin toward her neck and giving Scarlett a sidelong glance, all her throat could vocalize was a confused hum.

“Isn’t that what you were trying to imply?” Scarlett asked, immediately regretting saying anything on the subject. She already knew that Sadie had no such intent, but it was too late to take it back. Poking her finger at the button that operated the window, she wondered why a silly song lyric should have disturbed her or made her think of something Rhett had said.

“I wasn’t implying anything. It’s just a song. Are you always this serious?” she asked only to receive Scarlett’s silence.

Scarlett turned her head further from Sadie’s gaze, ashamed of her petulant behavior.

“I’m sorry,” Sadie quickly apologized for her stony reaction. “But I was not in any way making a negative comment on your Irish heritage. Why would anyone do that?”

Yes, why indeed, Scarlett wondered.

“I suppose the Irish weren’t as well received in America during your early years, but… I hope you didn’t face any discrimination,” Sadie said kindly. “But I can assure you, I’m a mutt compared to you, if that’s what you’re concerned about. And I suppose you would be if you were from the upper crust of society. But, randomly aim a dart at a map of Europe, and you have a very good chance of hitting a country where I can claim an ancestor. You should be proud of your Irish heritage. The Irish are some of the most pleasant people I’ve ever met,” Sadie complimented. “Hell, you can claim Saint Bono as one of your own and the whole world loves him. And Dylan is one of the best men I know. All you were hearing were some typically boastful rap lyrics. I didn’t write them and I didn’t intend them for you,” Sadie defended. “I was just having some fun. Obviously, there’s something more to this than just a few random lyrics. What’s this really about?” Sadie asked with genuine interest.  

“Oh, it’s nothing,” was Scarlett’s frustrated reply as she again turned her face away, embarrassed by her outburst and not wanting to get into the topic of her arrogant husband and explain how he and his opinions had somehow slipped into her mind again. Sadie shrugged her shoulders and kindly didn’t press Scarlett any further as she merged the vehicle onto Tara Boulevard.

“And I am proud,” Scarlett added in punctuation, conjuring up her normal confidence.

After a mile or so, Scarlett finally noticed the name of the road they traveled and her mood improved considerably. Her heart swelled at the mention of her family home. Their plantation’s significance throughout history was now obvious. Why they were now naming roads after something her father had courageously created…and they hadn’t even reached Jonesboro yet! Yes. She was proud! What had Charleston ever named after the Butler family? Probably nothing, Scarlett decided with meanness, claiming her superiority over the likes of Rhett Butler.

While it was not necessary to enter Jonesboro’s main street to reach Tara, Sadie took a slight detour along the way and eventually pulled into a space at the former train station. They sat for several moments in silence; Scarlett taking in the sights while Sadie carefully observed Scarlett’s natural reactions.

“Where are we at?” she asked, keeping careful watch on Scarlett.

“Don’t you know?” Scarlett wondered with confusion.

“Of course I know, but do you?” Sadie continued.

"This must be the new train depot–at Jonesboro,” Scarlett answered with a vibrant smile, thrilled to see that a respectable structure had finally replaced the slapdash wooden shelter.

“What’s over there?” Sadie asked, pointing to a brick building to the northeast.

“It’s being used as the courthouse,” Scarlett answered swiftly.

“Do you know what’s just beyond it, down that street?”

“I suppose it’s the jail,” Scarlett answered. She hadn’t spent much time in Jonesboro, lately, nor had she ventured north of the train depot often, but kept up with the happenings of the town through infrequent letters from Suellen.

“Where does Colonel James Johnson live?” Sadie quizzed about a well-known nineteenth-century citizen of Jonesboro.

“Um,” Scarlett voiced in thought, turning her head to the left. “His home is right over there, if I’m not mistaken,” she decided, pointing north along main street. “Behind those magnolia trees at the street.”

“How about Stately Oaks. Where is that?”

“Stately Oaks?” Scarlett repeated. “Do you mean the Allen plantation?”

Sadie tentatively nodded.

“Well, then, it’s north of here. I’ve never visited, but Pa spoke of it a time or two… Oh, yes, I remember him speaking of it when it was sold to the McCord’s,” Scarlett recalled. “Yes, that’s right, it’s the McCord’s plantation now.”

“You’re wrong about the location,” Sadie coolly replied.

“Wrong? No, it’s about four miles north of here,” Scarlett detailed confidently.

“The home is just south of here, in town, along this road,” Sadie corrected.

“In town? No, that’s not right. There aren’t any plantations right in town. And if it’s just south, up against Jonesboro, I would know of it for certain,” Scarlett determined.

“You’re pretty confident. Well, I’ll drive you by Stately Oaks in just a few minutes to show you what has become of it. But first, I must apologize for giving us further delay,” Sadie continued, unhooking her seatbelt. “I’m in dire need of the ladies’ room. This green tea always goes right through me,” she said, lifting her empty travel mug. “I’m desperate like a child who’s just been zipped into her snowsuit. Do you need to make a stop?” she asked, pulling out the key fob from the ignition and throwing it in her purse. “This train depot is now a county museum if you weren’t aware, though we won’t have time for a visit today. There’s a restroom right at the entrance. I might have to buy a t-shirt or magnet in the gift shop to ease my guilt of using the facilities and not paying an admission fee. Are you coming along?”

“No, I’m quite all right,” Scarlett answered. “Do you mind if I just wander about while you’re away?” Scarlett asked, releasing her seatbelt as well.

“That’s fine. Just don’t go scampering beyond this square,” she requested, visually diagraming the area with her arms like she was Uma Thurman in a Quentin Tarantino movie. “It might be difficult to form a search party for someone who shouldn’t–or _doesn’t_ –really exist. I’ll meet you back here in a couple of minutes.”

Scarlett swiftly moved south, aware of her limited time, before realizing her path was blocked toward the buildings of Main Street. Altering her route, she found a gravelly path around the east side of the depot next to the railroad tracks. She then ascended a ramp to what had been a part of the platform and made her way to the south end, halting next to a large cement planter filled with colorful pansies. Mill Street was before her and the traffic zooming by briefly distracted her. Soon, her eyes focused on the western section of Main Street. Amazingly, a few of the brick storefronts appeared quite the same as in her time. She paused in reflection and gripped the railing before her, knowing that if she could feel the curve of the metal–feel something–that this moment was real. Grinning to the buildings in greeting, as if to say: _Hello, I’m back and I’m so glad to see you’ve waited for me_ , Scarlett couldn’t help hide her elation. A man passing along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street must have noticed her glowing face, for he gave her a wave and a ‘good morning’ and wore her contagious smile as he crossed the railroad tracks in the direction of the more modern courthouse. 

Not wanting Sadie to be irritated with her for making her wait, Scarlett made a pivot to retrace her steps and return to the car. The sights captured in the last few minutes had soothed her soul, knowing that not everything was gone from her time. Seeing familiar places was keeping her sane. Each time she visited her Peachtree Street mansion, Scarlett became a little more relaxed, knowing she hadn’t dreamt her previous life. If nothing had been preserved, she certainly would have wondered if she really was just a vagrant who had lost her mind: an ill woman who claimed to be a Southern belle of the past. Scarlett would meet many more drastic changes as she and Sadie continued their journey south, but seeing parts of a Jonesboro that she knew well gave her a renewed energy for the few remaining minutes to Tara. 

*              *              * 

“Interesting mix, isn’t it?” Sadie commented as they headed east on McDonough Road. “That place over there looks like it could be Southfork,” she said, referring to the white fenced-in plot of land south of the road, comparing it to the Ewing property from _Dallas_. “Then you have these little shacks here and there, but mostly nice looking homes I guess. Was there a mixing of the classes in this area during your time?”

Scarlett nodded her head. Immediate neighbors had included the MacIntoshes, the Slatterys, and just across the river was Twelve Oaks. The Wilkes were at the apex of their society, while the Slatterys were universally marginalized. Clearly the class distinctions were still present in her old neighborhood, though many more properties had been carved out from the larger plantations that once existed.

While pulling in to the long drive at Tara, Sadie took lengthy glances in Scarlett’s direction hoping not to miss one moment of her reaction to seeing the place she claimed was ‘home’. Through the stand of mostly black pines and scattered water oak, they drove up the cedar-lined gravel path to a designated parking area southeast of the house. Sadie barely had time to set the vehicle into park before Scarlett released her belt and burst out of the door. But once she had planted her feet on the gritty surface, Scarlett lost all movement as she braced her hand on the top of the car, gazing toward her birthplace. There was no doubt; this was Tara. But now that she had seen it, could she go through with the visit knowing she no longer had a claim to this place?

As far as she could tell, all that was left of the plantation was the house, itself. The property was secluded from neighboring homes by narrow patches of woods, which naturally fenced it in on all sides. The grass of Tara’s front lawn was bathed in light, open to the sky. Currently, there were workers setting up rows of white chairs across it, preparing for a wedding ceremony to be held that evening. Fine landscaping surrounded the space with ornamental bushes and vibrant flowerbeds, exhibiting all the colors nature could provide. Tara appeared in fine condition.

Once Will had taken over the management of the property, he did the best he could with the place, but Scarlett always pressed him to fix this or repair that when she visited, offering him either money or the hiring of labor to assist in the process. Will rejected her aid almost as often as he accepted it, and while it upset Scarlett to know that she could have done more to bring the house back to the condition she had remembered from her childhood, she understood Will’s pride in caring for the property on his own terms. It pleased her to know that in recent years, someone had put much care into bringing the gleaming white house back to its 1860 excellence.

Feeling Sadie’s eyes on her, Scarlett turned her attention to her companion, but remained immobile. Sadie gave her a tranquil smile, as if empathizing with Scarlett’s apprehension. In just moments, she joined Scarlett on the opposite side of the car and gently grasped her arm, propelling both she and Scarlett forward.

“Do you know how baffled I was by this soil when I first came here to Georgia?” Sadie commented as she clicked the door locking mechanism on her key fob. “I couldn’t believe the color. It was so red!” she exclaimed, nodding in the direction of the base of a black pine where the soil was clearly exposed. “My childhood was spent digging up rocks from fertile black soil, so you can imagine my surprise. I wondered how anything could grow in this clay. But, it’s provided for you your entire life, hasn’t it?”

Scarlett nodded, barely hearing what Sadie was saying, as they ambled up the gravelly drive towards the house. The beating of her heart was so loud in her ears.

“Hey, are you OK?” Sadie asked when Scarlett’s breathing quickened.

Scarlett looked up to Sadie and presented an artificial smile, unsuccessfully hiding her nerves.

“OK, take a few deep breaths. Like this,” Sadie offered, facing Scarlett and demonstrating the yoga technique she used to calm herself in moments of stress. “Fill up your abdomen, then your lungs, hold it for as long as you can, then slowly let it out as if a candle were in front of your mouth, but you don’t want the flame to go out.”     

Scarlett copied the method after gauging how deep of a breath her rib could take, and was pleased by the calm it provided, even after a few breaths. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her chest.

“Nervous, huh?”

Scarlett’s eyes fell to the ground as they stood in the shade of a cedar.

“I don’t know why I’m so afraid. I just wish this land were still mine. How could my family let it go?”

“I know exactly how you feel. My family will be facing something similar, possibly in my lifetime.”

“What do you mean?” Scarlett asked when she lifted her eyes.

“My great-great grandfather took on a homestead in the eighteen fifties and the farm is still in the family. It’s been farmed by five generations to this point, but I fear my second cousin might be the last in line. After that, who knows… I’m afraid the land will be sold after he’s gone. You see, he only has one child: a daughter. And last I heard, she wanted to become Taylor Swift, so I’m guessing she doesn’t see farming in her future.”

“Do you think that’s what happened? My family ran out of people to farm and care for Tara?” Scarlett questioned.

“That or there was no one left who wanted to take on such a commitment.”

“Is your family’s farm up in the North?” Scarlett asked.

“Yeah. I most recently visited a few years back and took a tour of the house. It started as one little room and they built on as the family grew. But it’s the home where my grandmother was born, and it upsets me to know that someday it won’t be ours anymore. But that’s how it goes, I guess,” Sadie decided with a shrug of the shoulders. “At least I know if that day ever comes in my lifetime, I’ll still be able to visit the land just like you and your relatives can still visit Tara.”

“But it’s not the same anymore,” Scarlett voiced, unsuccessfully hiding a pout.

“No, it’s not, but your modern relatives won’t have the same memory of the place, anyway. Ideally, it would have remained intact, but at least there’s _something_ left of it. I once searched for a house that had belonged to my great grandparents, and guess what? I arrived and discovered that the property had been turned into a grocery store parking lot! The house was gone. I agree with you, it’s depressing. But let’s try to enjoy what remains instead of wallowing in our disappointments. Come on,” Sadie encouraged with a smile, taking Scarlett’s arm again and urging her down the path into the sunshine. “Just pretend you’re a tour guide like me. Tell me all the things you know about this place. Peggy, Dylan, James, Jennifer…we all know how much you love it. Make me love it like you do,” Sadie requested, eliciting a grateful look from Scarlett.

The discussion with Sadie had helped ease some of Scarlett’s concerns; she was able to see the situation in a new, practical light. It may have been very difficult for her family to give up Tara, but there may not have been anyone willing to dedicate their life and finances to it. If she looked to her own situation, she wondered if she would have been able to pledge her entire existence to the plantation her father had raised and nurtured like one of his children. Would she have been able to hold onto it if it hadn’t been for Will Benteen? Life had changed a lot in the county since the war. With the appeal and excitement of Atlanta hovering in the distance, could she have happily remained at Tara? With her money, she was able to hold onto it from afar. Maybe later generations were not as lucky as she was to have her cake and eat it too.

“I forgot to report some good news to you yesterday,” Sadie announced, interrupting Scarlett’s thoughts. “Though I’m not an expert, I did compare your signature with Scarlett Butler’s. To my eyes, it’s a perfect match.”

“Fiddle-dee-dee,” Scarlett expressed with tedium, her frustration showing over the constant investigation of her identity. “Of course it was. But it will only matter if it makes you stop treating me like an impostor.”

“Perhaps I will…” Sadie replied, her voice trailing off with her thoughts.

Without another word between them, Scarlett and Sadie walked up to the porch, greeting the workers in the yard along the way. Finally, Scarlett thought, finally…possibly Sadie was on her side, too. Somehow, she was very happy about that, despite their rough start. Scarlett didn’t have time to reflect on that thought for Tara’s new proprietor appeared at the front door.

“Hi, I’m Sadie Grier,” she greeted, holding out her hand. “And this is Kate Harvey.”

“How may I help you?” he asked with a little confusion in his eyes.

“Peggy Byrne told me you two spoke on the phone yesterday about this visit. You’re John Hill, correct?”

The salt and pepper-haired man nodded, recognition slowly rising to the surface.

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Byrne was to come with an O’Hara relative.”

“Well, Peggy had a family emergency and I’ve come in her place, but here’s the O’Hara descendant,” Sadie revealed, lightly placing her hand on Scarlett’s shoulder.

“Very nice to meet you,” the gentleman expressed, his smile growing larger with the introduction. “Is it your first time here?”

Scarlett nodded, playing her part.

“So, what O’Hara branch are you from?” he asked. “Peggy and I didn’t get around to discussing that.”

Scarlett grew nervous. She was not prepared for this question, but she could only be as close to honest as possible.

“Scarlett O’Hara. She was my…my…”

“Three times great grandmother, wasn’t she?” Sadie assisted thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Scarlett answered with relief, providing a thankful smile.

“Well, I can’t tell you how excited I was to hear that there was a descendant coming to visit! There have been a few others that have stopped by since I purchased this property a year and a half ago, but it’s not very often. I hope you’ll enjoy the place as much as they did. Come in, come in,” Mr. Hill ordered. “You are very welcome.”

The man, a native of Atlanta, was a very enthusiastic host, proudly showing the two women around the dining room, sitting room, and parlor, which were being set up with refreshment tables for the post-ceremony celebration. John also introduced them to his wife, who was occupying Ellen O’Hara’s modernized office and managing some reservation requests. The two lived on the property, inhabiting a section of the second floor. The remainder of that level consisted of three guest bedrooms. The rooms were to be occupied in just a few hours by members of the bride and groom’s families. Much of the upper floor’s interior had been remodeled since Scarlett’s time, but it was in such good condition, she had few complaints. However, she had wished to find her bedroom as she had known it since her earliest memories. That was not to be.

Unable to play tour guide while in John’s presence–despite Sadie’s attempts to subtly convince him that he had more important things to do than give them a tour and that they could find their way around without him–Scarlett had to hold her tongue until she and Sadie exited onto the back porch after saying their goodbyes to the Hills. Scarlett began to quickly release her thoughts, eager to correct any of Mr. Hill’s errors, as they leisurely walked away from the house. Pausing before the stand of trees at the rear of the house, Scarlett explained what had been visible from this viewpoint during her childhood: the smokehouse, the house-servant residences, the kitchen garden, tool house, chicken house, stables, and orchard. Further in the distance had been a gin house and a building where the cotton had been stored. To the east and west would have been acres and acres of cotton fields.

While passing the east side of the building, Sadie suggested they get a few shots of Scarlett in front of the house. Mr. Hill would think it strange if Scarlett had no interest in capturing a digital memory of the visit. Sadie suggested Scarlett step up onto the front porch and pose for a photograph. Holding her phone out in front of her, Sadie paused, finding it necessary to encourage Scarlett to smile.

“You’re happy to be here, right?” Sadie asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, show it!”

Scarlett complied, revealing her dimples as she casually leaned against a white brick column, which she nearly hugged and kissed just for the fact that it still existed.

When Scarlett joined Sadie again, Sadie suggested one last image, holding Scarlett in place to take a shot of the two of them in front of Tara, capturing the house in the same frame. Scarlett laughed when taking a peek at the final picture. Photographs these days were so simple, quick, and informal; one person could take hundreds in a day. She had to wonder what people did with all the images they collected.

Scarlett excitedly continued her assessment of Tara as they traveled down the path toward Sadie’s car, but suddenly halted her movement, glancing to a stand of trees beyond the front lawn.

“What’s wrong?” Sadie immediately asked, noting Scarlett’s attention had been drawn to the land beyond the house.

“Mother and Pa,” Scarlett whispered. “How could I forget?” she asked herself regretfully.

Before she had a chance to explain, John Hill called out the name ‘Kate’ from the front porch and swiftly made his way to where Scarlett and Sadie had been standing. As if he had read Scarlett’s mind, he made his apologies for forgetting to inform Scarlett of the burying ground. He said she couldn’t leave without visiting it.

“We’ve tried to keep it in pretty good condition, but it’s difficult to fight those pine seedlings inside the plot. They seem to pop up everywhere,” John explained.

“Thank you, so much,” Scarlett responded genuinely. “It’s right over here, then?” she asked, pretending not to know the layout of the place–though the rest of the property was so overgrown or nonexistent anymore, she might need a little direction.

“Yes, just cut through the lawn and follow what might pass for a path into that stand of trees,” he said with a laugh. “You’ll find it one hundred yards pretty much due west of the house. There’s a short brick wall around it, and a few cedars are still hanging on in the area. Maybe you’d like me to show you?”

“No, I’m sure we can find it. I wouldn’t want to impose on you any further on this busy day,” Scarlett said sweetly. “Again, thank you from me and my entire family for all that you’ve done with the place,” she concluded genuinely, giving him her hand one last time.

John nodded and left Sadie and Scarlett to search for the obscure pine needle-blanketed path on their own.

“Should we cut through the aisle?” Sadie asked when they crossed onto the lawn. “I need to face my fears once and a while.”

“Fears?” Scarlett asked curiously, moving her feet more quickly to catch up with Sadie’s longer steps.

“I always have these runaway bride dreams. I think I usually tell the groom it’s over before I even have a chance to walk down the aisle, though. At the end, I always feel so relieved that I didn’t get married. There’s nothing like a recurring dream to highlight a phobia.”            

“A phobia?” Scarlett asked, requesting a definition.

“A strong fear of something that might seem irrational to the average person. It could be a fear of heights…needles…the dark…just about anything. Obviously, Scarlett O’Hara didn’t have a marriage phobia.”

“No, _I_ suppose _I_ didn’t,” Scarlett stressed, again noting Sadie’s random habit of referring to her as if she wasn’t the person in her presence. Clearly, Sadie wasn’t fully sure of her identity yet, though Scarlett knew she was getting closer to winning her over.

“I bet she– Sorry. I mean you…you don’t have many phobias. From what I know, you just don’t seem like the type to get hung up on much.”

As they passed the white, hydrangea-covered arbor that was serving as an altar, Scarlett briefly wondered if her own recurrent nightmare was a sign of an unidentified phobia. If only it could end with a conclusive answer like Sadie’s had.

“This way,” Scarlett directed, leading Sadie toward the house in search of the path. “Is it here?” she questioned herself, eyeing the stand of trees beside them.

“You’d know better than I.”

Instinct carried Scarlett onto the path, down and away from the house. Sadie trailed behind her, a twig snapping loudly below Sadie’s stylish Danskos.

“Ow! I knew I shouldn’t have worn sandals today,” Sadie grumbled, grimacing from a scraped foot. “Oh, gosh,” she said with disgust, after they’d moved deeper into the stand of trees. “Look at that huge spider web! I definitely don’t want to run into whatever created that!”

Scarlett smiled at the comment after seeing Sadie anxiously pull her arms in tighter to her body.

“The bugs down here are like ten times the size that they were at home, and I never liked them there. I swear I saw a millipede the length of my foot, recently.” Sadie shivered, the thought leading to some uncomfortable scenarios she might face any minute now. Sadie closely followed Scarlett’s lead, as if for protection. “Have you ever been attacked by a bird?” Sadie continued as a few vocal crows kept watch from high perches overhead.

“No,” Scarlett answered with laughter, amused by Sadie’s anxieties. “But I’m sure you have,” she teased.

“A very protective papa red wing swooped down and nearly took my scalp once when I was walking along a lake path. I thought I accidentally stumbled upon the filming of a Hitchcock sequel. If that’d ever happened to you, you’d be a little jittery, too.”

“Here it is!” Scarlett exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the path only to have Sadie plow right into her back because she was paying much more attention to the ground or anything just above her head.

“Oof, sorry,” Sadie said apologetically when Scarlett’s look gave away her irritation. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Scarlett answered curtly, smoothing her hair, which was knotted into a tight, dense bun today. She stepped through the familiar gate, entering the burying ground. Sadie carefully followed, choosing her steps strategically to avoid the taller brush along the path.

“Amazing! Nobody ever told me that this was here!” Sadie exclaimed with a hint of indignation.

“I’m glad it is,” was Scarlett’s quiet reply as she knelt down to wipe her hand over the first of five stones, all coated in moss, only small patches of sunlight illuminating the monuments.

“Here,” Sadie said, offering a tissue for the task. “If I had known, we could have brought a brush and a bucket of water. My dad and I cleaned off relative’s stones for a day once. We got them shining, legible, and free of encroaching sod.”

“Maybe we can return to do that sometime soon,” Scarlett suggested.

Sadie gave a nod.

“There are still only five stones,” Scarlett commented. “It’s just like Suellen and her family not to be buried here. She was just too good for her own folk,” Scarlett added angrily.

“I don’t see you here, either,” Sadie pointedly noted.

Sadie was right. Scarlett hadn’t even thought of where she would be buried, though if she had been able to choose, she thought being next to her parents for all eternity would have been most comforting. Hopefully she now lay somewhere equally soothing. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to ask that detail. It made her uneasy to consider her lifeless body buried in the ground.

“These little stones are for my three brothers,” Scarlett explained, attempting to brush off the middle one with the fraying tissue. “They all read ‘Gerald O’Hara, Junior’.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Sadie said with great interest.

“They were all younger than me. I don’t remember them very well. They were still babies when they died.”

“Of accidents? Illness?” Sadie asked while waving her hand around her head to discourage the blood-thirsty mosquitoes that had easily discovered their presence.

“I’m not certain, though I don’t remember particular accidents. My mother and father never spoke of it,” Scarlett replied, brushing off rusty cedar twigs from the third stone. “I think they had been ill. I remember how uneasy Mother had seemed during some of those times.”

“That’s very interesting. The three girls survived and the three boys died. I wonder if there was something wrong with your father’s Y chromosome?” Sadie theorized.

“His what-chromosome?” Scarlett asked, looking up to the towering woman behind her.

“Well, the man determines the sex of the baby. If we could reproduce on our own, we’d only ever have girls. So, basically, your father was entirely responsible for you having brothers,” Sadie explained. After observing the look of confusion painted on Scarlett’s face, she concluded, “We can talk about it later. So, tell me about the others.”

“This is my Mother’s marker,” Scarlett said, holding her hand to the cool marble with affection.

Sadie attempted to make out the words, her eyes squinting in the shadowy light, and serenely read:

_Ellen Robillard O’Hara_

_Born In_

_Savannah, GA_

_Oct. 28, 1828_

_Died_

_Sept. 1, 1864_

“Pa’s is next to hers. When I married Rhett, I finally had enough money to replace the wooden markers with these,” Scarlett recalled gratefully, touching her fingertips to her father’s stone. “Oh, and I nearly forgot. It’s not marked, but there’s a young soldier buried here, too–we never knew his name. He was brought here to Tara during the war. We nursed him, but he never woke up. Those are the only burials I know of in this plot.”

Sadie crouched next to Scarlett, pulling the skirt of her brown dress tightly to her legs. She ran her fingers over Gerald O’Hara’s stone, slowly tracing the letters of his name. 

_Gerald O’Hara_

_Born In_

_County Meath_

_Ireland_

_June 2, 1801_

_Died_

_June 8, 1866_

 “It’s really difficult to see in this shade,” Sadie commented after reading through the inscription. “If we come back to clean these, we should bring some paper to make rubbings of these stones first.” 

Scarlett concurred with a nod.

“Ow!” Sadie shouted as she slapped her bare forearm, just having been bitten by a mosquito. Quickly rising from the ground as another began buzzing near her ear, she waved her hand frantically near her head to discourage it, only to be stealthily struck on her calf with a bite. “Fuck me!” she bellowed with pure infuriation, following a slap to the leg. Immediately grasping where she was, Sadie brought her hand to her mouth after a gasp escaped it. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Instead of receiving the expected look of reproof from Scarlett, Sadie was greeted with giggles after a brief awkward silence.

“I think Pa would approve of it,” Scarlett said with laughter, commenting on Sadie’s outburst. Scarlett knew she should be mortified hearing a profanity spoken in this sacred space, but she couldn’t help but think of her lively father and her fondest memories of him. “But, Mother! I can just picture the look of disapproval she’d be giving you right now. She showed it plenty of times to Pa.”

“I feel like I need to apologize to them,” Sadie responded with a relieved smile.

“Only to Mother,” Scarlett suggested with humor. “Pa would probably want to shake your hand and be very happy to know you.”

Sadie crouched down again, making sure her skirt didn’t make contact with the ground, and rested her hand on Ellen O’Hara’s stone.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Hara,” she said with all sincerity. “I promise I was brought up much better than this–my parents never once cursed in front of me…and probably never even cursed in private. We’re all reserved Lutherans, and as you might know, there isn’t any other kind. Though I may have strayed somewhat,” Sadie confessed under her breath. “But these insects are maliciously trying my patience. I’m really nothing more than an avid indoors-woman. So, you can see how I suffer,” she concluded lightly, but truthfully. Turning her attention to Scarlett, she continued, “How on God’s green earth are you not being bothered by these bloodsuckers?”

Scarlett shrugged her shoulders.

“Natural repellant; that’s what you have. Or they’re more attracted to me. Knowing my luck, that’s probably it,” Sadie determined.

“Maybe they can smell your fear. You have many of phobias, don’t you?” Scarlett teased, using the newly learned word.

“Too many to count. Why, _phobia_ is my middle name.”

“Really?” Scarlett asked seriously. What an odd second name to have given a child.

Playing on Scarlett’s naiveté, Sadie continued, “Sadie Phobia Grier. Do you like the sound of it?”

“Actually…it’s rather…nice,” Scarlett decided with surprise as if she had just tried a new dish that she had expected to dislike, and instead found that it had a very pleasant flavor.

Sadie expelled the air from her lungs with a brief laugh.

“Well, it’s too bad. My parents decided they’d made a mistake and soon changed it to ‘Elizabeth’.”

“Oh,” Scarlett replied with a touch of disappointment.

Turning serious, Sadie expressed her genuine gratitude.

“Thank you for leading me here. I don’t think I would have known about it without you.”

Scarlett nodded, glad to have been of service.

“There’s a true sense of peace here. I hope you feel it, too.”

“I do,” Scarlett whispered, holding back her tears–not born of sadness, but for the first time, born of a feeling that her parents’ and brothers’ souls were now well at rest; supported by a sense of pride that these loved ones were still remembered.

“What do you say, shall we hit the road? Are you ready to go? I’m being eaten alive. No doubt a giant, hungry spider is just lurking around my tempting ankle.”

Scarlett glanced once more at the gravestones, knowing she would be back soon to care for them. Nodding her head, she rose from the ground, brushed off the dirt and woodchips from her bare knees, and followed Sadie through the gate. A moment later, a loose cedar twig fell from where it had been precariously dangling from a branch and hit Sadie on the head, causing her to curse–this time safely outside of the burying ground–and move swiftly to the main path as if to escape hot coals under her feet, swishing her fingers through her loose, straight strands of hair, which led Scarlett to another laughing spell.

Sadie nodded assuredly and humorously barked out, “Schadenfreude! I should’ve known.” Scarlett was unsure of what she was being accused of, and before she had a chance to question Sadie on the term, Sadie continued jokingly, “Now I know what it will take to turn your frown upside down. No, not a road-trip rap-a-long; I’ll have to literally trip over a tree root, break my leg, and then plant my face in a muddy puddle. It’s a good thing that I’m so clumsy. It won’t take any effort at all.”

Catching a hint of her meaning, Scarlett realized that Sadie’s misery had brightened her day–and she didn’t feel very guilty about her enjoyment of it either. Laughter really was her best medicine. Scarlett couldn’t quite remember the last time she had felt its healing powers so clearly, but she was certain of the person who had provided the healthy dose.

“Rhett used to do that…make me laugh, make me forget my troubles, make me see things as they really were,” Scarlett revealed, a hint of somberness floating into her voice.

“I’m sure you miss him,” Sadie hesitantly commented, having been informed that an argument had occurred between Scarlett and Rhett before the accident.

Scarlett nodded without hesitation. She still had trouble admitting it, wanting to continue to hold onto the anger, but it was no use; she missed him.

“What would he make of all this modernity?” Sadie asked as they climbed the path together. “What would he think of two thousand eleven?”

The thought brought a smile to Scarlett’s lips before she spoke.

“I’m sure he would find it all a terribly funny joke. I don’t think it would frighten him one bit. Everything is an adventure for Rhett,” she explained with a sigh. “I have no doubt he would welcome the experience.”

Sadie chuckled lightly at the knowing description, and in that moment, Scarlett wished that Rhett had been with her now, in this time. Only he could have made her believe there was a benefit to being stuck here for the rest of her life. And if he had joined her, surely the future would have seemed brighter. They had been happy at one time. Maybe they could have mended their relationship with less difficulty in 2011. Maybe this was the only time when it could have been remedied.

As she and Sadie cleared the trees and were now again bathed in sunlight, Sadie pulled down her sunglasses from the top of her head and suggested, “How about you tell me about your parents and your sisters and about life at Tara on our way back? We have lots of time…and finally some privacy.”

Scarlett nodded in agreement.

While crossing the lawn, Sadie approached a familiar question, choosing two options sure to fall in ideal range for Scarlett’s modern teenage years. “How about this match up? Were you Team Backstreet Boys or Team ‘N Sync?”

“Oh, not this again,” Scarlett complained with an eye roll, knowing it was an addition to Sadie’s annoying music quiz. “I’m sorry to say, I don’t know either of those choices, but you knew that already, didn’t you?” Scarlett asked viscously sweet, feeling Sadie slowly coming to accept her.

“I think I knew it,” Sadie grumpily conceded, reflecting the frustration of being drawn deeper into this implausible scenario. “You can’t blame me for checking once and a while, can you?”

Scarlett sighed, surrendering to the fact that she respected Sadie’s maddening tenacity.

“No, I certainly cannot.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few acknowledgements. I've used a few lyrics by a band called Tapes 'N Tapes (songs: "One In The World" and "Freak Out"). The band is a model for a rock band in the is chapter. 
> 
> I also reference a wonderful book titled "Once There Were Castles" by Larry Millett.
> 
> Also, just a minor language warning again.
> 
> Enjoy!

Everything I Cannot See

Part One

Chapter 10 

The atmosphere on the trip back to Atlanta was quite the opposite of what was experienced on the way to Tara. This segment of the journey now featured the continuous, amicable discussion that was missing on the previous leg. Sadie had an endless supply of questions, which allowed Scarlett to joyfully discuss the happy history of Tara, including many spirited tales of her youth. She introduced Sadie to her neighbors and friends from the county, telling stories of the Tarletons, the Calverts, the Fontaines, and the Munroes. She spoke of Gerald’s wild rides about the countryside, his bellowing cheerfulness, and his generous heart. And Scarlett told her about Ellen and her exhaustive management of the plantation, recalling her mother’s strength and stability that had been so important to her in her youth.  Scarlett and Sadie even found common ground in discussing their relationships with particular siblings of the younger-sister variety. Scarlett was glad someone else understood such a strained association. Sadie suggested to her that things would probably get better for her and Suellen with time and distance, but that the discord would probably never completely go away.

Instead of continuing directly on to Marietta that afternoon, Sadie guided the vehicle away from the towering cityscape of Atlanta to the Old Fourth Ward just a few miles northeast of Scarlett’s Peachtree Street home, wanting to make a brief stop at her business. Scarlett became curious about what this woman did when she wasn’t volunteering her services at the Atlanta Irish Institute. Sadie wasn’t married, so unless she had an inheritance, she must have had to earn money in some manner.

After parking, Sadie asked Scarlett join her. They crossed the street to a short, colorful brick building with multiple storefronts. Pausing before the unit at _674 Highland_ , Sadie proudly announced, “Here it is!”

_Evolve Salon_ , Scarlett read from the sign above the door. The pleasant-looking storefront, consisting of large south-facing windows, was welcoming, featuring an unoccupied wrought-iron bench out front, a planter with some greenery, and a fresh coat of paint.

“A salon?” Scarlett asked for clarification.

“I opened it just over a year ago. We cut, color, and style hair.”

“As a business?” Scarlett wondered as they entered through the brightly colored door. She or her maids always took care of those needs in the past…well, except for the coloring. Only bad women did that sort of thing...well, in all honesty, they were the only ones who made it plainly obvious.

“Hey Jess,” Sadie greeted as they approached a young woman at the front desk, a glittering miniature chandelier dangling over the space. “I’d like to introduce you to Kate Harvey, a new friend of mine from the Irish Institute,” she said casually.

“Nice to meet you, Kate,” the woman said, outstretching her hand for Scarlett. Scarlett noticed the woman had difficulty as her clearly pregnant stomach limited her reach.

“My! Openly pregnant at this stage?” Scarlett wondered, thinking the young woman could give birth at any moment. “She isn’t hiding anything!”

As Sadie and Jess sat behind the desk and began to discuss the upcoming schedule, Scarlett took a moment to examine the nearby shelves, noting a selection of what she thought must have been shampoos or other such hair tonics for sale, all marked with the name _AVEDA_. Scarlett then turned her attention to the row of mirrors and finer-looking barber chairs along the opposite wall, five stations in all; three now occupied with clients. Hanging above the waiting area benches near the front window were framed works of art to decorate the open space, and, as Scarlett would learn later, the paintings were for sale, helping area artists to promote themselves. The space was modern, sleek, and uncluttered; unlike anything Scarlett had seen up until now. Sprigs of Russian sage, aster, and purple hydrangea scattered about in clear glass vases added a fresh, natural touch.

“You know what you need,” Sadie stated from behind, noting a little melancholy hovering around Scarlett. “A haircut.”

“A haircut?”

“Yeah. I’m in no rush. Nothing brightens a day like a fresh style. No one leaves this place unhappy. Buns are great for ballerinas and figure skaters, but we either need to mess yours up some or give you a new style,” Sadie said, studying Scarlett’s coiffure. “Right now you’d fit well into Walnut Grove circa eighteen eighty. It’s fine. You look nice, but I know you could do better with a more modern, youthful style.”

Scarlett frowned at the critique and wondered how she should be wearing her hair. Looking about the room, none of the stylists had the length of hair that she had sported her entire life. While Sadie’s was the longest of the group, it was still much shorter than hers. Jess’s bleached-blond hair was in a sleek bob. One of the women stylists even had a head of bright red spiky hair, shorter than Jess’s, that was most unnatural. Being the most fashionable woman in society had always been one of Scarlett’s greatest desires. She would have to make an entirely new effort to propel herself into 2011. And God forbid if she looked as old as thirty right now!

Sadie stepped to the last chair in line and placed her hands on the black vinyl backrest.

“Have a seat m’dear. I’m not taking _no_ for an answer. You wouldn’t want to pass up a complimentary haircut and some pampering, would you? My time and talent do not come cheap.”

Scarlett hesitantly moved in Sadie’s direction and then slid into the comfortable seat before Sadie spun her to face the mirror, the sound of the inconspicuous pop music streaming into the room instantly seeming louder to Scarlett’s ears.

“Hmm, I mean we could go real extreme, chop everything off and bleach your hair blonde,” she suggested casually, pulling out the pins from Scarlett’s bun and letting the hair freely tumble down out of its confinement.

Scarlett’s mouth opened wide to protest, her hands clutching her hair to the back of her neck.

“Too dramatic a change?” Sadie teased, meeting Scarlett’s eyes in the mirror. “Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do with your hair that you haven’t yet?” she asked, leaving the ball in Scarlett’s court. “I’ll do whatever you want, even if it’s only a trim,” she added reassuringly.

“I’ve always wanted to…oh, but I couldn’t,” Scarlett quickly dismissed the thought before even expressing it, heeding Rhett’s warning.

“Wanted to do what?” Sadie asked, continuing to gently comb through Scarlett’s hair with her fingers.

Scarlett remained guarded in her desire. Somehow she knew the minute she voiced it Sadie would comply and Scarlett was afraid of the consequences, which were much worse than shortening her hair and going blonde.

“Come on, we only live once,” Sadie encouraged. “At least, I think we do,” she concluded quietly, squinting as she examined the image of Scarlett in the mirror.

Scarlett considered the thought, then made her decision.

“Well, I’d like my hair to have some curls and…and…I want bangs,” Scarlett happily released.

Sadie slowly nodded her head with what Scarlett interpreted as approval.

“What do you think, Richard?” Sadie asked the bleached-blond stylist working at the chair next to hers. “Can you see her in bangs?”

Richard lifted his tattoo-covered arm to adjust his black-rimmed glasses and stared for a moment, “Yeah, I can see it. Yeah, it’d look good,” he added with a nod.

Scarlett turned her head to study Richard’s mouth, wondering if in fact she had been correct in noticing a silver ring going right through his lower lip. How strangely primitive!

“I’m thinking sort of a Zooey Deschanel look,” Sadie explained, again studying Scarlett’s face. “She kinda looks like her.”

“Is that the girl from _Bones_?” Richard asked with uncertainty.

“No, that’s her sister. I think that’s Emily. Zooey was in the movie _Five Hundred Days of Summer_ not too long ago. Really dark hair–down past her shoulders, heavy bangs. She’s super cute.”     

“Oh, yeah, I can see it. I know who you’re talking about now. I also see a little bit of Bettie Page, or maybe I’m thinking of the actress who played her… I think it’s her eyes…” Richard decided, studying Scarlett’s face as she glanced at him sideways.

“Hmm, Bettie Page? What do you say, _Kate_? Should we outfit you with some black lingerie and a whip?”

Scarlett looked at her with utmost confusion.

“No…absolutely not,” Sadie said with a smiling laugh, “Ms. Deschanel is the perfect classy inspiration for you. We’ll do bangs and just trim your hair up to a more manageable length and curl it. We’ll still keep it long, but I’m not touching the color of your hair; it’s perfect. You’ll be very in vogue.”

“Well…” Scarlett voiced, rethinking her decision again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have bangs.”

“Why?”

“Um…Rhett wouldn’t like it,” Scarlett revealed quietly.

“Your husband?”

Scarlett nodded her head.

“Come on, let’s get your hair washed,” Sadie said after a long pause, leading Scarlett back to a washing station. She fastened a slippery cape at Scarlett’s neck, sat her down, and then placed a towel behind her, leaning her head back into the basin.

“What did you mean by, ‘Rhett wouldn’t like it’?” Sadie asked as she began running the water into the sink to find a comfortable temperature.

“He doesn’t want me to– He’s never let me cut my forelocks. He likes my hair the way it is.”

“He won’t _let_ you? Like, as in, ‘I forbid you to do it’?”

Scarlett nodded as much as she was able.

“Are you OK with that?” Sadie questioned, unable to hide the displeasure in her voice as she aimed the warm water to the hairline along Scarlett’s forehead.

Scarlett stared to the high ceiling, relaxing as the soothing water wetted her hair.

“No,” she answered truthfully.

“Did he do that a lot?” Sadie wondered. “Make demands like that?”

“He says I have bad taste,” Scarlett disclosed with a frown. “He doesn’t like me to decide what I do with my hair or what jewelry to wear or…well, he’s chosen the make of most of my frocks.”

Outside of her line of vision, Scarlett was not able to observe the surprise in Sadie’s expression.

“You know what?” Sadie said, quieting her voice as she leaned down meeting Scarlett’s eyes. “I know you might possibly be from a different era and the husband-wife dynamic was not what it is today, but–”

Scarlett observed a struggle of conscience play out across Sadie’s face.

“Forgive me for saying this–I _really_ don’t want to–but sometimes it’s called for… Fuck him,” Sadie concluded in a firm whisper. “Don’t ever let a man tell you what to do,” she instructed with intensity. “I don’t care when you existed. He should have shown you more respect. To hell with him; I’m giving you bangs,” she said in defiance, making the decision final.

Sadie’s determination brought a smile to Scarlett’s lips. If only she herself had such resolve around Rhett. Scarlett felt her decision grow stronger with Sadie’s backing. Yes, to hell with Rhett and his demands. She only wished she could see him again and observe his face as he realized how her hairstyle had changed. Wouldn’t that be a sight! Though, her spirit dimmed knowing the chance of seeing her husband again was slim at best. Well, at least he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his threat to shave her whole head should she take this action.

The calming scent of lavender and rosemary filled Scarlett’s nostrils as Sadie began shampooing her hair, taking her to a deeper state of relaxation. Massaging hands expertly ran over Scarlett’s scalp, easing the tension in her shoulders and beyond. It seemed Sadie had been correct; a salon experience could bring on a calm happiness. Why couldn’t her maids have been as soothing as this while tending to her hair? Scarlett closed her eyes and her breath slowed, wishing to remain here the rest of the day.

When Sadie finished rinsing off the shampoo, Scarlett cracked open her eyes and guiltily caught a glimpse of the lacy black bra Sadie wore below her wrap dress and noted her ample cleavage. Unable to refrain from comparing other women’s charms to her own, Scarlett grudgingly decided that Sadie was equal to her in this attribute, though Scarlett was pleased to know that she herself had the slimmer waist.

Deliberately changing her focus to Sadie’s forearms, she again noticed the black ink of a tattoo decorating the inside of Sadie’s wrist. It must have been a requirement for a hair stylist, Scarlett decided, though it was seemingly Sadie’s only venture into the art.

“What’s written on your arm?” Scarlett asked, having wondered about it all day.

Sadie guided her left wrist carefully so Scarlett could read the small lettering without dripping conditioner-laced water in Scarlett’s eyes.

“ _GRACE_ ,” Scarlett read. “Why that?”

“It’s the name of my favorite album…a collection of music by one artist,” Sadie added, as she resumed conditioning Scarlett’s hair. “I hate to be morbid, but to give you an idea of how much I love those songs…if, one day, I’m put in the position where I must face a slow death, it’s what I want to be listening to in my final hours. I won’t permanently mark just anything on my skin, but this has been that important to me. I’ve always loved music, but that album showed me how affecting music could be–to feel the beauty and healing power of it.”

Scarlett smiled knowingly as Sadie continued to massage her scalp.

“Have you listened to it yet?” Sadie asked. “It’s on the MP3 player in its entirety.”

“No, I haven’t,” Scarlett answered, pressing her folded hands to her stomach.

“Well, if you’re ever having a down day, put _Hallelujah_ on. It probably will make you cry, if you weren’t already, but I promise you, somehow you’ll feel better after having listened to it.”

“Thank you for the suggestion,” Scarlett warily replied, not sure if she was in the mood for any more crying, even if it did improve her spirits in the end.    

“I’ve realized _grace_ is quite a lovely word, too,” Sadie continued, dragging the conditioner through the ends of Scarlett’s voluminous hair. “We all need more grace in this world. I hope the mark can remind me to live with it on a daily basis. I suppose you would say I’ve failed at it miserably, given your experience with me,” Sadie grimaced.

Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh, recalling Sadie’s many graceless moments since they’d met.

“Let’s just say, I’m a work in progress.”

           

            *              *              *

 

Scarlett stood in front of a mirror in the sunny living room of Sadie’s apartment listening to the hum of the air conditioner as she pivoted her neck one way and then back the other, studying her new image. Eight inches had been cut from her hair’s length and it was brought up even further with the soft satiny curls Sadie had added with the aid of a curling iron, styling serum, and hairspray after determining a diffuser would not provide sufficient curl in Scarlett’s stick-straight hair. Focusing on her heavy bangs, which fell just below her brow, Scarlett still hadn’t decided if she liked them or not. It hadn’t been what she was expecting when she had made the request. But she did truly look like a new woman: a woman with new possibilities. The transformation was progressing with each passing day. Scarlett wondered if one day–forced to permanently live in the future–she wouldn’t even remember herself, the person she once was, and fully embrace life as Kate Harvey. Either way, she felt light and fresh. Meeting her pale green eyes in the reflection, she sweetly smiled to herself with encouragement.

Scarlett decided to cease her examination and turned to explore the rest of the room, which shared its space with the open kitchen. She noticed that the apartment’s décor had much in common with the simple style of the salon. Though, she did note that each piece of furniture was mismatched, making her wonder if Sadie had lacked the funds necessary to purchase a full set of furniture much like many of her Atlanta neighbors had after the war ended. Seemingly, Sadie had only herself to care for–no children or other relations in need–so she should have been doing as well as she could in her situation. What would it be like, Scarlett wondered, to not have to send monthly checks to relations or provide for offspring and keep all the money for herself? Never since she’d been earning money had she had that opportunity, though Rhett’s support did ease that burden tremendously. And, soon, Scarlett might come to experience a life like Sadie’s, as none of her dependent family existed anymore.

Pausing at the only spot holding a large variety of personal knickknacks, Scarlett stood before a dark, dustless bookshelf unit directly across the room from the mirror. It held vases similar to those she had seen at the Irish Institute shop as well as a small crystal elephant figurine, and up against a stack of books, a brass bookend representing the bust of one Abraham Lincoln.

“Am I a traitor for possessing that in the South?” Sadie asked from the kitchen, having caught Scarlett’s gasp as she recognized the figure.

Scarlett could only stare back with wide eyes.

“Promise me you’ll keep it a secret from the authorities. I’d hate to be thrown in prison just for owning a clunky bookend.”

“Great balls of fire! Why would you have something like that?”

Sadie shrugged her shoulders.

“They were my parents’. I’m not sure where the second one is…maybe still in my childhood bedroom. Yes, he has a twin,” Sadie disclosed humorously, adding fuel to the fire. “I took them over as a kid when I started to collect books of my own. My honest guess is that Mom and Dad got them as a wedding gift or got them for free somewhere. It’s not like they were overtly passionate over Lincoln. I don’t ever recall even one conversation about the man. I know I could have something more attractive. It’s pretty tacky, actually. I bet you’re happy to see that he has a damaged nose.”

Scarlett smirked, noticing a slight flattening at the tip, as if this Lincoln had fallen on his face at one time.

“But it comes down to this: I hate waste. I’m a bit of a miser. If something serves a purpose, why throw it away and spend good money on something else that does the same thing?”

Scarlett decided Sadie had a point, though now that she had Rhett’s money, Scarlett hadn’t abided by that philosophy as steadfastly as immediately after the war.

“Is it really that offensive?”

“Hmm?”

“Your scrunched up face speaks volumes,” Sadie pointed out.

“Oh!” Scarlett replied in frustration, replacing the expression. “Well, I just can’t believe he’s honored, so. That’s all.”

“He just wanted to keep this country together.”

“And ruin all our lives!” Scarlett spit out.

Sadie remained silent momentarily, a repentant smile on her lips.

“Look, let’s not get into arguing about this sort of thing again. My opinions on that conflict obviously don’t match yours. Someday I’d like to speak with you about your experience, but I don’t think today is the day.” With grave sincerity, Sadie added, “I am sorry you and your family were hurt in the end. That part I do feel badly for and I wish things could have been different for you.”

Scarlett only nodded and turned her attention back to the shelves before her, feeling somewhat mollified by Sadie’s last words. Sadie was right; it was best not to continue on that subject when they would never agree.        

The next shelf Scarlett looked to contained a large framed photograph of a young woman in profile and, in front of it, a collection of shells, seemingly grouped together by shape, not color. On a lower shelf, there was a smaller framed photograph of a young woman in a sepia tone similar to the one above. Scarlett noted the woman’s curled-under bangs, which in a way shared something in common with the frizzled-style she had been expecting from her new haircut, and wondered if Sadie found this look unattractive, too; for earlier, when Scarlett had questioned Sadie’s work and explained the style she’d wanted in detail, she received this reply:

 

_“A bunch of curls over your forehead? That’s what ‘frizzled’ means? Oy, that sounds…odd–and dangerous! How many burnt foreheads did you see in your day? Were those women missing all the hair just above their forehead?” she added, hinting at the expertise needed to use curling tongs in the nineteenth century. “What you found fashionable in your time is probably not what you want to be doing now. Does that make sense?”_

_Scarlett nodded, knowing that fashion changed from one year to the next._

_Then Sadie unwillingly admitted, “I’m sorry to say it, but I sort of see why your husband may not have been thrilled with the style. Maybe he preferred classic elegance to a passing fad. But who am I to talk?” she’d added. “You should have seen my bangs in the early nineties…ugh, and my first of many childhood perms. I should burn all the photographs from that time and destroy the evidence. We do learn from our mistakes…”_

           

Sadie noticed Scarlett’s interest in the photographs as she was removing the lids from some glass containers, preparing a small lunch for the two of them consisting of some leftover chicken marsala and farfalle pasta.

“Do you see a resemblance?”

Scarlett picked up the filigreed frame of the smaller photograph and glanced at Sadie as she walked in her direction.

“That’s Grandma Grier. She’s the one who was born on the farm I was telling you about. The other photo is of her, too. I feel guilty not having portraits of my other grandparents up right now, but I haven’t had the time to get them restored or printed yet. And it’s crazy-expensive to have a pro do it. I guess these photos were the two most important to me…the ones I couldn’t bear to lose,” she said, taking the frame from Scarlett.

“Was she your favorite grandmother, then?” Scarlett asked looking on the round face and soft eyes of the woman in the photograph.

Sadie took in a deep breath and expelled the air slowly before answering.

“I honestly can’t say ‘favorite’, because I think that’s unfair, but there’s something about her that’s extra special to me. I have no explanation for it because my other grandmother was equally strong and independent and loving, but I think I identify with Grandma Grier more. Maybe it’s because I saw her more often–every weekend until she got sick when I was twelve.” Sadie paused, alluding to the cancer that took her. “It doesn’t hurt that she had these amazing photographs taken, either. I’ve always been obsessed with the nineteen twenties and I’m sure that’s the decade when these were taken. I love the entire atmosphere of the photos, the shadows, the hairstyles, the poses, just everything.”

So, Sadie didn’t mind the bangs after all, Scarlett thought, studying the perfect waves in the woman’s short bob.

“Grandma Grier came from a farm, yet she moved to a big city on her own, got a job, embraced the city life, and didn’t get married until she was in her mid-thirties. She was always so fashionable, yet she could just as easily throw on some old work clothes and get down in the dirt to plant rows of potatoes or beans. I think my dad got his love of gardening from her.”

“I have a favorite grandmother,” Scarlett revealed, her attention briefly stolen by Buckley, Sadie’s black and white tuxedo cat, as his nose took great interest in her purse, which was resting on the bench near the door.

“Really? Who?” Sadie asked with true interest, retrieving Scarlett’s attention.

“Grandma Robillard.”

“Ellen O’Hara’s mother?”

Scarlett nodded.

“So, the French side of your family. Her name was originally Solange Prudhomme, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Her portrait hung above the fireplace in our parlor at Tara. I looked to it all the time, like somehow if no one else understood me, she would. I felt like I understood her, though I’d never met her. She was a very great lady,” Scarlett stated proudly. “Mother didn’t say much about her, but Mammy talked about Grandma Robillard whenever I was naughty as a child…even now sometimes,” Scarlett disclosed with a shy grin.

“In what way? As in: ‘your grandmother wouldn’t approve’ or ‘you’re just as bad as your grandmother’?” Sadie asked.

“Maybe both.”

Scarlett held her grin, urging one onto Sadie’s lips.

“Well, I think I would have liked to have met your Grand-mère Robillard–and your nurse, too. Maybe you can conjure them up in your time machine. Your grandmother must have been very interesting–and your nurse a lot of fun,” Sadie decided with a chuckle.

“Fun?” Scarlett said in disbelief.

“Not so much?”

“No, and you wouldn’t think so either if you were raised by her,” Scarlett answered with a roll of her eyes. While she loved Mammy very much, Mammy’s omnipresent eyes and ears certainly gave Scarlett a most challenging childhood.

Sadie laughed.

“Well, that just means you tried to get away with a lot and she wouldn’t let you,” Sadie said knowingly. “She and I probably would have gotten along swimmingly, for I would have done anything that she had asked of me. That’s the kind of child I was.”

Scarlett gave Sadie a sidelong glance, not catching the sarcastic tone of the comments, and thought, “Well, isn’t she Miss Fine Airs.”

“So, have you found the resemblance yet?” Sadie asked, pressing her lips together tightly and pointing to the photograph.

Studying the faces of grandmother and granddaughter, Scarlett wasn’t having much success in spotting it.

“Maybe the other photograph would help,” Sadie suggested, lifting the frame carefully over the seashells. “She’s officially Helen Lawson in these, obviously not having married yet.”

Scarlett studied the profile, noting that in this photograph–more Victorian in pose–the formerly Miss Lawson had her long hair pinned up at the back of her head and there was no sign of bangs, frizzled or otherwise.

“Here,” Sadie captured Scarlett’s attention and pointed to her cheek. “See, we both have only one dimple. It’s on the right side of our face.”

“Oh, I see!” Scarlett said with interest. “How strange to share something like that with a grandmother.”

“One never knows what peculiar genes will be passed on. My mom says I inherited Grandma Grier’s hair, too. No one else in my family has the color I have.”

“Black?” Scarlett questioned.

“Try dark chestnut. You might have forgotten; this isn’t natural,” Sadie explained, flipping a section of hair. Sadie chuckled at a memory and said, “My mom _loves_ my true color. She’s always saying,”–continuing in a motherly voice–‘Sadie, your hair is so pretty. I don’t know why you want to cover it up in black?’ My real color reflects my Scottish or Norwegian ancestry, I guess. Our texture is the same, too,” Sadie explained, indicating the noticeable frizz obvious in the larger photo. “Do you look like Solange Robillard?”

“My hair, my eyes, maybe my nose, partly… Yes. Yes, perhaps I resemble her quite a lot,” Scarlett decided, though she had seen more and more O’Hara in her appearance as she’d grown older.

“I’ve heard there’s a portrait somewhere in the family, but I haven’t seen it yet. I’d love to make a comparison. I should see if I can find a photograph of it. I think the genuine article might be somewhere out of state.”

“The portrait of Grandma Robillard from Tara?” Scarlett asked excitedly, praying it still existed since she now knew that no personal Robillard-O’Hara belongings were still at the house in Clayton County.

“I would assume that’s the one.”

Sadie placed the frame back on the shelf and resumed her activities in the kitchen, leaving Scarlett to further peruse the shelves.

“Where are these shells from?” Scarlett asked.

“Tybee Island. Have you ever been there?”

“Near Savannah?”

“Yeah. That’s the first time I’d been on a beach on the Atlantic Ocean. I’ve visited the Pacific Northwest several times, but never the east coast until recently. I can honestly say I’ve never felt one drop of unhappiness while spending time next to the ocean, from Seaside, Oregon to Tybee Island, Georgia. Something about it just soothes my soul. I suppose everyone feels that way when they look out to the flat horizon and listen to those heavenly waves. I think it’s because I grew up in a landlocked place.”

“I don’t believe we ever went out to beaches as far as Tybee when I stayed in Savannah,” Scarlett decided, glancing up to the top of the bookshelf. “I’ve always enjoyed my visits to the beach, too, but I always ruin my complexion,” Scarlett said, briefly dropping her eyes to her skin, noting that despite the sunscreen Carolyn had encouraged her apply, the sun was providing her with more freckles and darkened skin than she’d had in quite some time.

“That’s one of the funniest photos I’ve ever been a part of,” Sadie commented when she followed Scarlett’s eyes to a framed picture.

Scarlett pulled the black and white photograph down.

“That’s me, my sister, and our two first cousins. We were at a county fair more than twenty years ago and decided we wanted to play dress up and have an old western photo taken of us. But if you’ll notice, the oldest and youngest decided they would dress like prim and proper girls of the prairie. Look at the big bow in my sister’s hair and the apron dress she’s wearing. Do you see the highly buttoned blouse my cousin is wearing? She absolutely looks like a schoolteacher. And then my other cousin and I decided on some flashy dresses and the photographer had us prop our legs up exposing garters! My dress was red with sequins on it. You can barely make out the giant feather sticking up from my headband. Little did I realize at that age that I’d decided to portray a prostitute.”

“Oh, no!” Scarlett replied.

“Oh, yes! Funny our parents didn’t suggest something else, but I suppose my mom knew how much I adored sparkly, velvety things. What was I? Ten? Eleven years-old? It was perfectly innocent, but how often did the good girls and the prostitutes hang out and get photos with each other in your time?”

“Never!” Scarlett expelled with laughter, replacing the frame on the shelf. Soon her chuckles ceased. Unfortunately an image of her and Belle Watling sitting down for a photograph together chiseled its way into her mind. The thought made her stomach ache.

“Knowing what I know now, I’d still choose that dress,” Sadie concluded, breaking the silence.

Scarlett looked to the second photo on the shelf to strike her imagination clear. This one was more recent and obviously of Sadie with her parents and sister; they were standing before a lush, green mountainside, showing equal happiness in that moment.

In between the photos was a carved wooden carousel with a moving platform.

“Careful,” Sadie warned as Scarlett reached for it, “I’ve had that since I was a baby. It’s way older than me, and I’m ancient,” she joked.

Scarlett pulled her hand away.

“No, go ahead,” Sadie encouraged. “Wind it up and let it go. Now it makes me dizzy to watch it spin back and forth, but give it a whirl if you can stomach it.”

Scarlett carefully pulled it down and gently pushed the round platform counterclockwise, watching the white strings wind up around the central dowel and then she let go, watching the platform rise and fall, creating a cool breeze in her face, the three distinct horses moving forward and back.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very sweet,” Scarlett said with a bright smile, “I so very much like horses, but I’m afraid I’m feeling a bit disoriented as well.”

“It’s probably the lack of food,” Sadie suggested. “Everything’s ready. Have a seat,” she ordered, having placed two bowls of pasta and two smaller empty bowls on the table as well as a plate of cut up raw peppers, carrots, and apple slices and a larger bowl of sweet pickled cucumbers. “It’s not much, but I think it will hold us over for a while. What would you like to drink? I have white grape juice.”

“That sounds fine,” Scarlett nodded as she took a seat at the small round table tucked into a corner off the kitchen. When Sadie joined her, Scarlett was handed a tall glass stamped with the message: _Smart Women THIRST for knowledge_.

“Do you like living here by yourself?” Scarlett questioned, taking a slice of red pepper from the plate and closing her teeth on it with a soft crunch.

“I do.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

“Not much. When Matt’s in town, he’s over a lot of the time. People probably wonder why we haven’t moved in together. Financially, it would actually help me a lot, but I’ve realized how much I love having my own space, you know? I’m what they consider an introvert. Do you know what that is?”

Scarlett shook her head as her fork stabbed a piece of chicken.

“This is the definition that I relate to: it’s someone who loses energy by being around a lot of people for too long. We need our alone time to regain that strength and I think that’s why I love having my own space. Sometimes I even have to lock myself away from my cats–though that’s when they’re most likely to bother me,” she explained with a humorously tensed chin. “I don’t think I want to live with anyone again for a long while unless we could occupy separate wings of a house.”

“You lived with someone _before_?” Scarlett asked curiously.

“Yeah, right after college I moved with my boyfriend when he got an architectural position in another state. We spent several years together and separated not long before I moved to Atlanta. But, that’s a story for another time,” Sadie concluded with a sigh, leaving Scarlett eager for more details. “Which are you, do you think, an extrovert or an introvert?”

Before putting a forkful of pasta into her mouth, Scarlett asked, “Is one the opposite of the other?”

“Yeah, so do you gain or lose vitality from being around other people?

“Oh,” she responded before chewing and swallowing the mouthful. “I do like being around lots of people. I always have. I get bored when I’m alone. I guess we’re opposites.”

“Looks like we are.”

“So, you’re not eager for the concert tonight? With a room full of people and all?” Scarlett asked referring to the homecoming concert of Heartless Saints, the band fronted by Sadie’s boyfriend, Matt Barnes. During the haircut, Sadie had mentioned the event and invited Scarlett as her guest, offering her the spare bedroom for the night so Dylan and Carolyn wouldn’t have to stay up late waiting for her to return.

“Oh, but I always look forward to concerts. It sounds like a contradiction, but you see, I think the music trumps the crowd and you’ll find that I can remain very energetic.”

“Does it tire you to give tours at my home, then?” Scarlett wondered, feeling satisfied as the deliciously seasoned food began to settle in her stomach.

“No, that’s something I really enjoy. If I have a purpose–a direction–and have knowledge to share, it’s not a problem. I’m much better with small groups and I’m best at one-on-one interactions–like this,” Sadie explained with a warm smile. “It’s nice to sit down and have lunch with pleasant company.”

 “With me?” Scarlett asked with surprise.

“Yes, it’s nice to have you here,” Sadie said with reassurance. “And I’m not just saying that so you’ll let me try on that ring,” she teased, eying Scarlett’s engagement ring.

Scarlett looked down to her hand and cheerfully slipped the diamond from her finger, temporarily concealing it in her left fist.

“Only if you let me try on yours,” Scarlett replied, admiring Sadie’s slim yellow-gold band, circled with miniature clear stones.

“This? You know they’re just crystals, don’t you? I don’t own any diamonds,” she explained, pulling the band from her long, slender finger. “You have to hold this in the light in just the right way or it doesn’t sparkle.”

“It’s pretty,” Scarlett explained, not thinking it out of character to be attracted to something with such delicate simplicity. “Did a man give that to you?” she asked, wondering about the former boyfriend Sadie had mentioned a few moments ago.

“Nope. I purchased it myself,” Sadie answered, reaching her hand across the table.

Scarlett took the band and exchanged it for her engagement ring, watching Sadie salivate over the genuine article. Scarlett quickly pushed Sadie’s ring into place on her middle finger where it fit best, positioned it perfectly in the sunlight, and found it glowing quite attractively on her hand.

“Oh,” Sadie sighed quietly as she slowly slipped on the diamond encircled with emeralds. “Oh,” she repeated, eying it with affection. “Are you sure it wasn’t Richard Burton you were married to? He’s got the same initials.”

“Who’s Richard Burton?”

“He was an actor; one of Elizabeth Taylor’s husbands.”

Scarlett’s look showed her ignorance of the couple.

“I suppose it’s likely you wouldn’t have heard of Ms. Taylor either. Well, Richard Burton had a history of giving her incredible, insanely expensive jewelry like this. Very generous of him, I’d say,” Sadie decided, speaking directly to the ring on her finger.

Scarlett smiled at the compliment, though she briefly wondered if she’d have to wrestle Sadie to the ground in order to retrieve the engagement ring from the enraptured woman.

“Why _do_ you volunteer at my home? I don’t know why you’d bother with such a thing while you’re occupied with a business,” Scarlett asked, bringing the subject back to her house, more curious than ever as to why this woman would help show it to strangers when there was nothing to be gained by it.

“I’ve had to make time for it, because you’re right, I don’t have much to spare,” she answered, dragging the pad of her thumb over the surface of the diamond as if hypnotized. “It’s been almost necessary for me to do something like this ever since college. You see, I was a history major. It’s one of my passions, but in the end I couldn’t see it as a career. I like working with my hands, I like to be creative; I wanted a steady income and I wanted to do something that provided instant gratification, immediate results. I’m not a very patient person as you probably figured out.”

A knowing chuckle escaped Scarlett’s lips.

“That’s how I decided to pursue my work. But if I only had that, I know I’d be missing something. I love sharing stories of the past. Ever since college I’ve been volunteering at old courthouses, historic mansions, even a warden’s house that was built in eighteen fifty-three…when you were how old?”

Scarlett swiftly answered, “I would have turned nine,” not realizing it was another of Sadie’s tests.

“The site was the location of the Younger brothers’ final prison stint.”

“The Younger brothers?” Scarlett asked, wondering why that name sounded familiar to her.

“I’m sure you know them best by their association with–”

“Frank and Jesse James!” Scarlett answered before Sadie had a chance, recalling the connection. “So, they were all caught at last?” she asked with surprise, lifting an apple slice from the plate. “When?”

“Back in September, eighteen seventy-six–but only the Youngers were caught. Those James boys were experts at evading the law,” Sadie explained before stabbing at some cucumbers with her fork, “but Jesse got his comeuppance eventually.”

“How?” Scarlett was dying to know.

“You’ll never believe it. It _so_ doesn’t fit the profile of his reputation when you think of the murderous guerrilla and criminal that he had been. Whether it’s completely true or not, well, you know how legends go… The story is that Jesse got up on a chair in his home to dust or level a picture or something. While he was doing that, he was shot by a member of his own gang–for ransom money–right in the back of his head.”

“Oh!” Scarlett exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth. “When?”

“Let me think…umm…eighteen…eighty-two.”

“Just about ten years from now,” Scarlett’s voice trailed.

Sadie took note of the comment, but didn’t make a correction.

“And so now, after all that, you’re showing off _my_ home,” Scarlett said, returning to the topic of her cherished property, pleased to have someone there who had a passion for keeping her memory alive.

“Yes, and what a magnificent home, it is!”

Scarlett grinned at this compliment. Sadie seemed to have simple taste and yet she didn’t declare the house–what was it that Rhett described it as? A nightmare? An architectural horror?

“It was the perfect opportunity. My favorite tours have always been those in historic homes where a visitor can hear the story of a family. I hadn’t been at it for a while since I’ve been focusing on my business–since I’d moved down here actually–but I found out about this through the grapevine, so to speak, and knew I had to be involved,” she concluded with satisfaction, snapping through a carrot with her teeth, then rotating the diamond to allow the light to play with its facets. “So, are you excited for this evening? I can’t wait to bring you to your first rock concert. I’ll never forget my first club show: Placebo and Weezer. It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, I’m sure,” Sadie decided. When a veil of concern fell over Scarlett’s face, Sadie added, “Don’t worry, you won’t be eaten by wolves or anything. I’ll be by your side the whole night. If you gain strength from crowds of people, I know you’ll have a great time.”

 

And a great time is what Scarlett had until late that night when she found herself clutching a wall on the north side of the Earl, vomiting out the contents of her stomach.

 

Oh, why had she consumed so much alcohol? It had been months since she’d last touched her brandy, and while she felt need for it after the miscarriage to numb the pain in her heart, she didn’t dare ask Dylan or Carolyn for it. She had remained abstinent almost from the time she had discovered her pregnancy, as her reliable drink of choice soon became unsettling to her sensitive stomach.

The evening had started out with so much promise. Scarlett, anticipating the live music and potential for dancing, was more excited than she had been in a long time. This event was going to provide her with something fresh in her currently mundane existence–a night free of television, magazines, or puzzles: a night out with people her own age! A night out where she could put forth her new persona, meet new people, and not have to worry about what sort of reputation she would be lugging behind. No one would know of her past or make preconceived judgments. What a euphoric feeling to wake up with a clean slate!

Sadie made sure they had their stories straight about Kate Harvey’s “past” before she introduced her to any of her friends. Kate was new to town–though a native of Jonesboro, Georgia–and staying with friends in Marietta. She had recently separated from her husband, who still remained in Charleston, as they took some needed time apart. They had no children. Sadie played on the fact that Scarlett had managed the books and employee pay for all her businesses and had decided that Kate’s most recent position had been in payroll at a Charleston area hospital. Her connection with Sadie had been formed at the Atlanta Irish Institute where she had recently been volunteering her time.

When she and Sadie arrived at the Earl during the band’s soundcheck, they walked down the long hall toward the venue and were greeted with the warm tones of a guest horn section rehearsing with the band and Matt’s lazy vocals echoing out:

 

_Will you come running to me?_

_I’ll leave the light on…_

           

Matt greeted them with a huge grin when his warm brown eyes spotted Sadie and the band paused so he could jump off the stage to say a quick ‘hello’. Sadie must have informed Matt of Scarlett’s attendance because he was not surprised to see her and said, in a deep, muted Alabama drawl, “You must be Kate? Very nice to meet you.”

Shortly after the rehearsal, Sadie and Scarlett were joined in the adjacent restaurant by the band members, their significant others, and a random sampling of family and friends. This is where Scarlett had her first sample of Guinness Stout and her first guacamole burger: actually her first burger of any sort, ever. At Sadie’s suggestion she had tater tots as a side, and Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the shape of the potatoes, but quickly turned it into a false cough, knowing she shouldn’t find something like this novel in the twenty first century. The food was delicious, but she never wanted to touch the bitter stout again and wondered how Sadie could have been so enthusiastic about it.

One of the men that joined them for the meal was Sean Daley, whose brother Eric played drums for the Heartless Saints. His hair was almost as dark as Scarlett’s and he wore the stubble of his facial hair quite handsomely. When Sadie caught Scarlett staring at him as he chatted across the table from her, she whispered, “He reminds me of Colin Farrell. I wish he sounded like him.” Scarlett had no recollection of meeting a Colin Farrell before, but if he looked like Sean Daley, he must have been somewhat attractive. Catching him glance her way a few times throughout the supper when they weren’t in conversation, Scarlett knew he found her charming, too, and she did nothing to dissuade him of his interest.

He spent the rest of the evening with Scarlett, becoming a co-companion with Sadie, who never left Scarlett’s side. Having taken positions near the stage, the music was especially loud and jarring, making Scarlett thankful for the earplugs that Sadie had provided for her. At first uncomfortable with the screaming fans and the packed room, which made it impossible to move but an inch in any direction or to avoid perfect strangers from becoming quite intimate with you, Scarlett wasn’t sure this was the type of event she would find enjoyable, but after one drink and then another and another, Scarlett’s inhibitions retreated and she soon found herself dancing along with the crowd in a way she never thought her body would move on a dance floor. Her lyrical grace had been replaced with a primitive need to become one with the beats of a song. Her sneakers were bouncing off the wood surface with raw energy as she jumped along with Sadie, Sean, and the rest of the music fans to the hyper beats, screaming along with Matt’s gruff vocals:

 

_Will you look me in the eye?_

_Will you run from what you see?_

_Will you see me in the light?_

_I hope you do_

_I hope you stay…and never leave_

 

Oh, why did the White Russian Sadie introduced her to have to be so delicious? Scarlett immediately decided that the cocktail wasn’t like drinking alcohol at all and didn’t think anything of asking Sean to bring her one after another. As the last chains of Scarlett’s reserve fell away, she stumbled to her left and Sadie finally drew her attention from the stage and took a hard look at the intoxicated woman beside her, noting the green pallor that had crept up into Scarlett’s face. Her grip weakening, Scarlett lost her empty, ice-filled cup to the floor.

“Oh, shit! How many of those have you had?” Sadie yelled, though Scarlett could only make out some of the words by reading her lips. Sadie took Scarlett by the arm and led her in the direction of a much-needed restroom.

“Air. I just need some air,” Scarlett claimed with a slur and slipped from Sadie’s grip, swinging through the door that led to the exterior of the building. Scarlett could barely see straight as she made her way around the roped-off area of tables and chairs along the purple-colored façade of the building with Sadie right on her heels. If only the world would stop spinning…

“Excuse us. Sorry,” Sadie spoke to the random people hanging out around the north end of the club as Scarlett searched for a private space to occupy and ended up between two parked vehicles.

“I don’t feel so very well,” Scarlett announced, before showing Sadie just what she had meant.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” was all that came out of Sadie’s mouth for some minutes as she gripped Scarlett’s hair, having saved it from disaster at the very last minute. As the heaves lessened, Sadie passed Scarlett a napkin and she gratefully accepted, drying her watery eyes before dabbing her lips. Her overindulgence and the excitement of this evening had knocked her to the ground.

“Is she all right?” Scarlett heard from behind. It was the voice of a concerned Sean Daley.

“She will be,” Sadie answered, resting a soothing hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. “Her stomach just made sure of it.”

Scarlett remained facing the wall and buried her face in her hands. Oh, how humiliating!

 

Scarlett woke the next morning in dire need of water and was thankful for the multiple glasses Sadie had provided for her on the nightstand. She wasn’t certain if it was her thirst or Sadie’s gray cat that had first woken her, as she recalled a scratching sound on the bedroom door and a few odd ‘mrows’ coming from the other side before footsteps and Sadie’s whispering voice interrupted it.

“Frances Gumm, you adorable little pest! Leave her alone. She’s had a rough night.”

When Scarlett finally rose onto much more stable feet that morning, her first necessary stop had been the bathroom. Oh, she looked a horror! Her face couldn’t have been paler. Her lips couldn’t have been drier. And was that her hair or a squirrel’s nest? She timidly made her way out to the living room, deciding that Sadie had seen her at her worst last night. This hideous appearance would only be an improvement.

Scarlett’s first thought upon finding Sadie was that of Melanie Wilkes. There Sadie was, sitting in a plush rocking chair, her hair piled up on the top of her head making her widow’s peak more prominent, and her feet planted on an ottoman that raised her knees almost to chest level. While Sadie wasn’t working on tatting, she did hold a piece of fabric in her left hand and a needle with thread in her right. Melanie had been posed in a very similar way the day Scarlett had met with her four months ago…the day Rhett had taken Bonnie away from her…the very last time she had seen her daughter before that dreadful day on the stairs.

“Well, good morning, Sunshine! Feeling better? Did you drink all your water?” Sadie asked swiftly, pushing against the bridge of her eyeglasses to reposition them.

Scarlett nodded her head and slid into the faux leather chair next to Sadie’s.

“What are you making?” Scarlett asked.

“A Frank Lloyd Wright window,” Sadie answered, turning the fabric so Scarlett could see the simple blue-toned design of the cross-stitch. “I bet you’d like some more pain meds,” she determined, putting down the project.

Scarlett nodded weakly and Sadie immediately went to the kitchen to pour some water and grab the bottle of ibuprofen. Well, there was no more mistaking Sadie Grier for Melanie Wilkes. Scarlett could never have pictured Melanie in the thin, silky kimono-like robe Sadie sported, which hugged curves that Melanie never would possess. The plumb-color would not have suited Melanie either, but Sadie was rather striking in the body-slimming shade.

“Did the ice pack help your head?” she asked, handing Scarlett the glass and pills.

“Yes, very much.”

“So…too many Caucasians last night, huh?” Sadie said as she searched for a book in the shelving unit. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how many of those you’d had. I was just glad to see you were having a good time. I don’t know if you remember, but Sean apologized profusely last night, to both you and me. He was so taken by your charms that I’m sure he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to you,” Sadie said, turning to smile. “You really handled yourself well last night,” she praised, referring to Scarlett’s interactions with her new acquaintances, “you know, until you got plastered.”

Sensing her meaning, Scarlett would have glared at Sadie had her eyes not hurt so badly.

“That’s probably the first time you’ve ever been drunk.”

“Oh, no I’ve been–” Scarlett began, then cut herself off, wondering why she would disclose something as unladylike as that.

“Oh, really…?”

Scarlett’s face turned red.

“It’s OK. I’m not here to judge. Somehow I never imagined you–well… But please tell me that’s not the first time you’ve gotten that sick,” Sadie asked hopefully while Scarlett downed the pills and the full glass of water.

Scarlett nodded, “It is.”

“Oh,” Sadie sighed. “Something else to weigh down my conscience. You see, this is why it’s good that I never want kids. I can’t even take care of a grown woman.”

Sadie plopped back into her chair, clutching a large book to her stomach.

“So, when’s the first time you had too much to drink?” she asked, giving one of her mosquito bites a thorough scratching, euphoric relief filling her expression.

Scarlett hesitated on an answer when her mind trailed back to the corn whisky and the day she arrived at Tara to find her mother dead. Closing her eyes to clear the memory, she decided that day was to remain inside, never to be discussed. Most of her drunken binges had been linked with sadness: her mother’s death, her father’s loss of mind, her post-war anxiety in Atlanta, Frank’s death and her guilt… Must she always associate one with the other? But, wait...

“My honeymoon,” Scarlett answered, relieved to find one happy memory linked with an overindulgence of alcohol.

“Which one?” Sadie found it necessary to ask.

Scarlett’s dimpled cheeks turned pink at the question.

“New Orleans…I never had honeymoons with my first two marriages.”

“So, you went to New Orleans with Rhett Butler for your honeymoon? It’s not in the records,” Sadie clarified, signaling that this was news to her. “New Orleans… I’ve never been there, but I guess I think of it as romantic. Too much celebratory champagne, then, on the grand honeymoon?” she asked.

Scarlett gave a quick nod.

“But not too much to get sick?”

“No, just a splitting headache,” Scarlett answered with a scowl, “like the one I have now.” Desiring to change the subject, Scarlett commented, “You’re wearing spectacles. I’ve never seen you wear them before.”

“Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t believe it. I woke up this morning and suddenly my vision was just a blur.”

“Not really?” Scarlett asked with surprise. “How did it happen, do you think?”

Sadie aimed her eyes to the side, took a deep breath in, and sighed, signaling her disappointment.

“No. No, not really,” she stressed in almost a pleading tone. “Do you know what my dad would say to you now? ‘What a gulla-bull.’”

“A Gullah bull?” Scarlett asked in confusion.

“Gullible,” Sadie kindly clarified with no further riddles. “Do you know what that word means?”

Scarlett shook her head.

“You’re quick to believe something whether it’s true or not. You trust everything you hear. I’ve spent only a few days with you and I already can see it.”

Scarlett took a deep breath and dropped her shoulders as she exhaled, feeling Sadie’s disappointment and immediately picturing her freshly painted _Caveat Emptorium_ sign. Well, _gullible_ described her to a tee.

“Don’t feel bad,” Sadie continued after seeing Scarlett’s pout. “My dad said it plenty of times to me, too, though my sister got it a thousand times more than I did,” she added proudly. “He always did it with a sense of fun, though. He never meant it to be cruel and neither do I. I’m sorry for pointing it out, but I just…I know you’re smart. You wouldn’t have succeeded like you had if you weren’t, but you need to take a little extra time to think about what people are saying to you. I’d like to see you succeed here, too, in this time. And you’ll be more easily fooled here than in the past. Question everything. Ask yourself, ‘Is she joking or serious? Maybe I need to look into things more carefully before making a decision.’ We all want what’s best for you.”

Vulnerable even in her own time, especially when it came to interactions with her husband, Scarlett could see Sadie’s point. Her vulnerability was ten-fold in 2011. As she’d noted many times since arriving, mentally, she was as sophisticated as Olivia Connolly. Scarlett hated to be helpless. She hated to be seen as a fool, but she was as knowledgeable as a child in these modern times. She couldn’t accept that fate in her new life.

“How can I stop it?” Scarlett genuinely asked after a period of silence, comforted that Sadie seemed to truly want to help her. “What can I do?”

“Like I said, just question everything. Make sure whatever you’re told sounds legitimate. If you don’t feel good about something, check it out before making a decision. Come to one of us if you need a second opinion. I’d also say inform yourself as best as you can, but no one can soak in all the information in the world. But definitely pay attention to the news. Read. Research. We’ll try to cover all necessary topics with you. Learn as much as you can. I think the older you get, the more knowledgeable you become. Experience can help you tremendously. For example, would you say you’re smarter today than you were ten years ago…if you were still in eighteen seventy-one?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d say that I am,” Scarlett decided. At least she knew what ‘Caveat Emptor’ meant now. At least Rhett couldn’t use that specific weapon against her anymore.

“Good. You’re on the right track. Now, as for my _spectacles_ …I’m blind as a bat. I often wear contact lenses; that’s why you haven’t seen me in glasses yet. Do you know what contact lenses are?”

Scarlett shook her head.

“They’re little lenses that fit right on your eye and correct your vision so you don’t have to wear eyeglasses.”

“Really?” Scarlett asked, leaning forward excitedly, then backing away with a frown. “Oh, you’re just joking again.” This weakness was going to take a while to correct, Scarlett decided sullenly.

“Nope, I’m being completely honest. I’ll even let you watch me put them in later. You can test my vision before and after for proof. The idea has been around for ages, I would guess, but they’re generally a more modern convenience. Here,” Sadie said as she handed Scarlett the book she had been holding. “I wanted to show you this. Yesterday you were asking me about why I was volunteering at your house, and I thought of this book.”

Scarlett stared down at the hefty book in her lap and read the title: _Once There Were Castles_.

“I want you to see how lucky we are to still have your Peachtree house to learn from and experience. I almost cry every time I look at this book, because it’s about all these beautiful homes–very much like yours–that were lost over the years. All that tangible history completely gone. It’s a miracle that yours survived. There’s a photo of a home in here…” Sadie leaned over to search the index. “One fifty-nine, one sixty,” she said, while flipping to the correct pages. “When I lived with Adam–the architect,” Sadie referenced, reminding Scarlett of their conversation the previous day, “we lived in a town where this house…” she paused, pointing to the page that featured an obscured French Second Empire mansion, “where this house existed. It very much reminds me of your house. It’s hard to see it clearly beyond the trees, but I think this might be the only close-up photo of it. Do you know that this fence still stands?” Sadie informed excitedly, pointing to the wrought-iron fence separating the property from the road. “I’d walk by it as often as I could just to be close to that history. I would walk the streets in this town and just drool in front of the historic homes…Gothic Revivals, Federals, Queen Annes…many older than yours, though not as extraordinary. But this one belonged to a lumber baron…the most glorious house in town in the most glorious location, of course,” she continued, pointing again to the photo of the mansion, “this one doesn’t stand anymore. The man’s grown children didn’t care about it and it was left to ruin. It’s now the site of a city park overlooking a river bluff. I would walk through that park at least once a week, stopping to imagine the enormous footprint of that house on the site.”

Sadie stood, leaving Scarlett with the book, and walked to the kitchen to wash her hands; the memorable lemon verbena scent of the soap reaching Scarlett’s nose. She lifted her own hand to sniff the remnant fragrance of the same soap she had used in the bathroom. Scarlett planned on asking Carolyn to purchase a bottle of this _Mrs. Meyer’s_ hand soap for her own downstairs bathroom. As Sadie had claimed: it was better for the environment than some other soaps–whatever that meant.

“What would you like for breakfast? I have cantaloupe. We could do oatmeal or toast or some eggs? I do killer scrambled eggs.”

“Food?” Scarlett grimaced and groaned, wondering if her stomach could bear it.

“They’re all pretty benign. I think you’ll do well with any of them.”

“All right, you choose,” Scarlett decided, not wanting to think of the subject for one more moment. Hopefully, when the time came, her appetite would be back.

Scarlett returned to the book on her lap, scanning page after page of photographs of homes, some admittedly grander than her own, some less so, some a little older, and some newer than when hers was built; but all that were featured were now gone. Words like “razed” and “teardown” and “made way for a college” and “stood for less than forty years” and “destroyed in a fire” captioned these photographs as well as several that were labeled “did not live to see the completed mansion” referring to the unfortunate owners. Many of these captions could have surely described her own home if not for her son. She understood why Sadie had wanted to shed tears while looking at these pages. Oh, thank God for Wade! Because of him, she could still return home, even if that home was now occupying the Atlanta of 2011.

“Good morning, Kate. Feeling better?” asked the sleepy voice of one Matt Barnes as he passed behind her chair, startling Scarlett out of her musings. She quickly threw her bare legs underneath her, attempting to hide in the tent that was the extra large t-shirt Sadie had lent to her for sleeping.

“God’s nightgown!” Scarlett cursed under her breath, thinking she and Sadie were alone in the apartment. “He must have been in her bedroom,” Scarlett determined, turning red at the thought of what that possibly implied. “Good morning. Yes, much better,” she choked out, peeking around her chair to watch him approach Sadie at the stove and briefly wrap his arms around her from behind. His light brown hair was standing up in every direction and his loose t-shirt and shorts highlighted his lean frame. Scarlett turned away and laughed to herself, thinking she’d never seen Rhett in such a disheveled state as this, even when he had been in jail. How was it that he could look so perfect, even after waking from a night’s sleep…or other things? Matt, as she recalled from last night, was quite a handsome man with a strong, chiseled face and body, yet to see him this morning, she’d have to look a little harder to find the attractive man she’d met last night.

Without announcing her departure from the room, Scarlett placed the book on the ottoman and tiptoed back to Sadie’s spare room to swap this nightgown of sorts with her bra, loose knit top, and black shorts. Times had certainly changed…that didn’t mean Scarlett was yet comfortable playing along with the new rules and traipsing about in only a large shirt and panties in front of a man she barely knew.

 

*              *              *

           

“Sadie said she’d be ready by eleven. She said she’d drive her over here, but I told her I’ll pick Scarlett up,” Dylan announced as Carolyn was setting out Olivia’s breakfast on the table. “Apparently she had a rough night.”

“Scarlett?” Carolyn asked with worry.

“She was apparently quite D.R.U.N.K. near night’s end.”

Olivia quickly scribbled the letters down and sounded out the word.

“Dru-n-k? Drun-k…Drunk.”

“Well, that’s not going to work for much longer,” Dylan said, catching a look of vexation in Carolyn’s eyes. “Don’t point the finger at me,” he continued, “she has your advanced intelligence. That would still work with most four-year-olds.”

“What was Sadie doing, plying Scarlett with alcohol?” Carolyn concluded with clear aggravation.

“You know she wouldn’t do that.”

“She might if she was trying to get information out of her,” Carolyn suggested.

“No, no. Apparently, she wasn’t even aware of the quantity Scarlett was consuming. You know how it is. You can’t pay attention to everything in that situation. Sadie feels terrible about it, Car. She couldn’t stop apologizing when I spoke with her.”

Carolyn sat down at the table with Olivia and smoothed her daughter’s curls.

“Is it odd that I’m worrying about her as if she was one of my children?” Carolyn asked her husband.

Dylan ruefully smiled, recalling that his daughter was also in a similar state of mind. Earlier that morning, she had asked concernedly about Scarlett and why she wasn’t at the house. He had thought it best at that moment to explain to Olivia that Scarlett might not always be with them because her home was elsewhere, quite a long distance away. She might return someday and they probably would never see her again. In reaction to that comment, he’d had to take Olivia into his arms when he noticed small tears dripping from her eyes. He was still working out the kinks of being an honest parent.

Once Olivia was older, and if he were still involved with the Butler mansion, Dylan wondered if Olivia would put two and two together when catching a glimpse of one of Scarlett’s photographs. Would she remember their experience with this mystery guest? Would they need to let her in on the truth of this most bizarre happening? It may never come to that. Scarlett might be involved with their family for many years to come as they fostered her through into her own modern life; that was the most likely scenario. Looking on Carolyn’s concerned countenance, he knew she would never choose to abandon her relationship with Scarlett.

“No, it’s not odd. I think of her that way sometimes, too–maybe like a younger sister.”

“There are so many terrible things that could have happened to her last night if Sadie hadn’t been with her. I don’t think any of those scenarios would cross her mind. She’s from a more innocent time; she’s like twenty-six going on seventeen.”

“One could argue that there never was such a thing as a more innocent time,” Dylan countered. “Scarlett’s probably more aware than you think.”

Carolyn nodded in agreement.

“You’re probably right. After all that she’s been through, she can’t be as naïve as I’m making her out to be. But, still…there’s a lot that’s changed in the world. She would not be aware of everything. Sometimes it feels like we have a teenage daughter living in this house. I didn’t think that would come so soon.” Carolyn smiled at Olivia, who was somberly scooping oatmeal into her small mouth. “I suppose it might be good to practice on Scarlett before Liv’s time comes, because we’re certainly having a long talk once she returns home.”

“I have no doubt,” Dylan teased.


	11. Chapter 11

Everything I Cannot See

Part One

Chapter 11

Books. Literature. It was a rare sight to find objects such as these anywhere near Scarlett unless the bound item contained the word _account_ in the title. But at this moment, a few works of fiction were thankfully her only companions.

Scarlett lay sprawled out on her bed, a blue ice pack easing her forehead from the aches that forcefully reminded her of her mistakes of the night before. Her bedroom provided her the silence she had been seeking ever since returning home. Was she really calling Dylan and Carolyn’s house _home_ now? Well, if that was the case, then her “younger sister” had driven her to seek this solace, for Olivia had not left her side since her return and had decided to spend every moment questioning Scarlett about what she had done while she had been gone. Was Tara pretty? Was it far away from Marietta? How long did it take to get there? Did she have fun? Was Sadie’s home nice? Surely it wasn’t as nice as the Connolly household. Was the music loud at the concert? Why didn’t she feel well today? She really wasn’t going to leave them someday and never come back, was she? Scarlett was on the verge of screaming at the sweet girl to shut up, but wisely excused herself from the family to avoid such a harsh confrontation that she would deeply regret later.

Near Scarlett’s side lay two books, both lent to her by Carolyn during their early evening talk. Scarlett’s surrogate mother-older sister-friend had been true to her word and had launched into her lecture on safe behavior for women, even as the remnants of Scarlett’s hangover maintained a strong grip, threatening to linger indefinitely. Carolyn had requested that Scarlett accompany her to the Connolly’s bedroom after supper for some privacy, leaving the children and Dylan behind in the kitchen for cleanup duty. Even now, Scarlett’s cheeks burned hot at the thought of their conversation, because not only did Carolyn offer advice on responsible drinking and the only safe ways to accept beverages in bars, but also felt it necessary to broach the subject of unplanned pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections. Despite Scarlett’s embarrassed pleas to avoid the talk, Carolyn made Scarlett sit, listen, and learn.

As to how she came in possession of the books, the portion of the lecture on pregnancy prevention and infections had led Carolyn to pull the first book off a shelf–the second being a tale Carolyn had said was written by one of her former colleagues about a fictional slave rebellion in Jamaica, which she thought Scarlett might be interested in considering her family’s history in Haiti from around the same time period. Scarlett lifted the first book up and brought it into her line of vision. She examined the dust jacket featuring a young man in a stovepipe hat; she then flipped it over to find an image of a young woman on the back cover. Both photographs were in the fashion of mid-nineteenth century America; the beginning of the story was set in the year 1848. Carolyn thought it a well-researched work of fiction and recalled that there was a section discussing a variety of ways to prevent pregnancy and combat disease. Scarlett supposed that this external example made it easier for Carolyn to broach the topics, signaling to Scarlett that she should have already had introductory knowledge of the subjects during her lifetime…though that was not necessarily the case.

Flipping to the pages marked by Carolyn, Scarlett began to read and soon realized that the main female character had a position in a house of ill repute! Should she read on? Oh, surely her mother would not approve, thought Scarlett, as she looked over to the photograph on her bedside table. But wouldn’t Ellen O’Hara have been just as curious as all the other ‘good’ women Scarlett had known? She knew for a fact that even Mrs. Meade had wondered about establishments like that run by Belle Watling. What were they like inside? Well, Rhett had given her hints when comparing their home decor to a brothel. But how did these houses really function? The temptation was too much for Scarlett and her very innocent mind, so she lifted up the photograph of her O’Hara family and placed it face down hoping this act would block her mother’s eyes from watching her daughter learn about such shameful subjects.

It appeared that a woman named _Mrs. Stanhope_ played the role of Belle Watling in this tale. After reading about the pantry that this madam had provided for her girls, Scarlett wondered why every girl from her time, bad or not, wasn’t provided such assistance. Why had she been sheltered from such knowledge?

The section informed Scarlett of the availability of instructional books and pamphlets such as _The Married Woman’s Private Medical Companion_ , _Mysteries of Females_ , _The Secrets of Nature_ , and _Every Woman’s Book_ –supposedly all from a time when she was only four years of age.

She continued reading, catching mention of baking soda and vinegar, syringes, hoses, sponges, and circular dams made of India rubber. How these items were used to prevent pregnancies, Scarlett did not know, but she had no doubt about their efficacy. Belle Watling had been a successful business woman; Scarlett knew a wise and prosperous Madam of a House would not allow for all her girls to become pregnant on a regular basis. Scarlett’s eyes returned to the page and scanned through an endless listing of chemicals such as strychnine, chloride of soda, carbolic acid, and even something named _Dr. Van Hambert’s Female Renovating Pills_.

As she read further, her eyes immediately latched onto the phrase ‘ _most reliable preventatives_ ’. And what that referenced was very familiar to her now, as Carolyn had covered the subject in full only an hour before. The item that had existed in 1848 and was still widely used today was the condom. And apparently there were other ‘most reliable preventatives’ for women in modern society, the most common being the birth control pill. During their last meeting, Dr. Stevens had asked her if she’d been on such pills, but having had no knowledge of them, Scarlett had easily given a definitive “no” and had thought on the subject no further. Finally, the lyrics of the Loretta Lynn song Sadie had recorded for her made complete sense. Scarlett decided she would have named it the “miracle pill” if she had been given the opportunity.

Why couldn’t Scarlett have known about all this when it had mattered to her most? Charles Hamilton could have left her a widow, but not a widow with the burden of a child. She could have married Frank Kennedy for his money and not been left with a reminder of him when he was gone. And as for Rhett…he knew she didn’t want any more children. Surely he knew much about the workings of a House. Why had he kept her in the dark from all but one method that would be obvious to anyone? Of all the people Scarlett knew, she thought Rhett was the one she could have counted on most to tell her the truth about such a thing. As to whether he would have honored her wishes, well, that was entirely different…and he hadn’t up to this point.

Scarlett rolled her head to the side, holding the cool pack to her forehead to keep it from slipping, and gloomily sighed as she viewed the upright photograph on her nightstand. She felt sick for her thoughts of a moment ago; it was like wishing her children had never been born. No… No, it was not like that at all. She had every right to lament over what could have been. There was no doubt she loved her children. Hadn’t she sacrificed for them?  Hadn’t she worked harder than she ever had in her life to make sure they would never know the difficult times she had faced since her childhood had come to an abrupt end? She was so glad to have had her darling Bonnie in her life. A credit to her, Bonnie was her pride and joy. And Wade; now that she knew what he had done for their family home, she would love him forever. No, the point was that she had never been allowed to make a choice in the matter. She hadn’t been allowed to decide if her children would have been conceived or not.

Oh, how she envied the women of today and their easy access to such knowledge! Scarlett thought of Sadie Grier and how she had never been forced to have the children she never wanted. Sadie could live her life free of the burden if that was her choice. And Carolyn, who claimed that she’d only ever wanted two children, could stop at two if she wished. There probably would never be an accidental third. Well, Scarlett was extremely grateful for the information that Carolyn had provided her tonight, even if it was too late to do her any good, now. But if fate should ever shepherd her home again, Scarlett would make certain that her daughters were never ignorant of such facts.

 

*              *              * 

The grand opening of the Atlanta Irish Institute was now less than a month away and preparations kept Scarlett cheerfully busy. When not focused on that event, Scarlett remained quite occupied playing nanny to the Connolly children or, recently, learning the workings of a computer with Carolyn’s instruction a little bit each day. Apparently Scarlett had been the subject of several discussions amongst the group regarding her future and certainly modern technology skills were essential to her progression. Carolyn gave her typing lessons, encouraging Scarlett to memorize the keyboard instead of hunting and pecking for a letter or number. Scarlett was also introduced to spreadsheets–which thrilled her to no end–each day realizing how a different feature of the software could have made her previous life so much easier. When assisting Peggy on a few mornings in the gift shop–strictly forbidden from entering the second room–Scarlett was put on phone duty to take any incoming calls regarding visitor’s questions or to take payment and reservations for tours.

Scarlett soon realized that this was all in preparation for a job opportunity that was to be offered to her. One day after Sadie had completed her last tour she asked Scarlett to accompany her to the veranda. As they sat on a stone bench in the cool shade of the north side of the house, she explained how Jessica Chandler, Sadie’s main receptionist at the salon, was soon to go on parental leave. It would be very beneficial for Scarlett’s résumé to contain a little work history because at some point she would need to seek out full-time employment. Sadie stressed that Dylan and Carolyn were in no rush to push Scarlett out on her own, but if she could slowly gain independence, her journey could be set on a successful path.

How did Scarlett view her future? What would she pursue for quality employment in order to support herself? Scarlett honestly hadn’t thought much about it except during those guilty moments when she knew she was the extra mouth to feed, the extra body to clothe and shelter. One option Carolyn and Dylan put forth was allowing her to eventually provide daily childcare to Olivia and Aidan. Carolyn was pursuing employment at various local universities, but knew it might take years for her to find a fulltime position. In the mean time, Carolyn would volunteer her time at the Fernbank and maybe teach a class or two if the opportunity came. If that were the case, they would need someone to watch the children.

Scarlett couldn’t see herself as a nanny for the rest of her life. While she cared for Aidan and Olivia, she was never the best company for children and they definitely were not the best company for her. Sadie brought up the idea of Scarlett pursuing her GED, which she explained was equivalent to earning a high school diploma. Knowing Scarlett was intelligent and a quick learner, but lacked a modern education, Sadie determined that with effort, Scarlett would be successful in passing the exam. With a hint of well-earned pride, Sadie explained that she had been salutatorian of her high school class and performed very well in all subjects; she would be happy to tutor Scarlett in all the requirements.

No, it wasn’t too soon to be thinking of her future. And if she was to gain employment in a well-paying position, she needed more than just a GED. Sadie explained that at some point, once she’d saved up enough money, Scarlett would be able to possibly start taking classes at a community college and, if she wished, could pursue business yet again where she had found success in the past. Knowing Scarlett to be a quick student, Sadie had very few qualms in offering her the temporary receptionist position. And if all went well, Scarlett certainly could stay on in a part-time role once Jess returned. Sadie only requested that Scarlett be competent, organized, knowledgeable, pleasant, and accommodating with clients.

Scarlett wisely accepted the position and would start learning the ropes by shadowing Jess in the next several weeks up until the baby came.

 

The Sunday before Scarlett was to begin working with Jessica Chandler at _Evolve_ , she and Sadie, along with Jennifer, took another road trip down to Tara with pencils and large sheets of paper to make gravestone rubbings, and borrowed buckets, brushes, shovels, and spatulas, ready to restore the gravestones of the O’Haras. They had arranged it with John Hill and he had no reservations about them refurbishing the plot and offered them any assistance that they should need. Sadie, now more appropriately attired with sneakers, high socks, long pants, long sleeves, mosquito repellant, and a _Milwaukee Brewers_ baseball cap, had a much easier time with her insect and arachnid friends, though a less comfortable time with the heat. With much elbow grease, the three of them succeeded in removing a good portion of the moss and years of accumulated dirt that was forming a layer over the stones. They even eradicated, if only for the time being, any sign of a pine seedling or an emerging weed.

For all their hard work, Sadie treated them to Blizzards at the Dairy Queen along Tara Boulevard not far from Lovejoy. Then, she had a surprise for Scarlett as they made a stop at a local Jonesboro cemetery. Apparently she had done some research on Suellen and Will Benteen since their last visit and had found out that their final resting place was in this cemetery.

Swiftly she’d paced herself ahead of Jennifer and Scarlett down a sundrenched path in order to reach the gravesite first. Jennifer and Scarlett shared a laugh as they caught Sadie using some choice words for a trio of grasshoppers that vaulted from the unkempt plot as she stepped near the stones. Bravely holding position with tensed muscles, she covered up the dates of death for both Suellen and Will with her arms so Scarlett would not know her sister and brother-in-law’s exact destinies. While there had never been any true friendship between her and Suellen, Scarlett was glad to have seen her sister’s final resting place. Scarlett had been dreaming of Tara, Suellen and her family, and Wade and Ella almost every night lately. Just last night she dreamt that Ella had had a row with Suellen’s oldest daughter, and the last thing Scarlett remembered before jolting awake this morning was a shouting match with Suellen; it had been so vivid, her younger sister so full of life. It was a surreal moment for her to realize the mortality of someone whom she had wished dead on more that one occasion, but somehow she never thought Suellen would ever honestly die…and now that she had, Scarlett somehow wished to see her sister at least one last time.

While the conflict with her sister Suellen was well buried in the past, there was a new, though less serious, conflict brewing amongst her new friends. It didn’t surprise Scarlett that Peggy, Jennifer, and James were on one side of it while Sadie was on the other. Sadie had once told her that one of her father’s nicknames for her had been _Mary, Mary, quite contrary_. Having gotten to know her better over these weeks, Scarlett had decided it was very fitting.

The disagreement began when Peggy and James had decided that for the upcoming festivities, Scarlett should join on as a guide for the house tours that September weekend. While Sadie had disapproved of it, citing the possibility of discovery or of Scarlett learning information about her past-self’s future from a guest, what bothered her more was the suggestion that Scarlett portray herself and dress in full 1869 fashion, as she had for her fall crush. Scarlett wasn’t sure of the definition of _cheesy_ –a word Sadie had used to describe the idea–but clearly Sadie did not believe in historic site tour guides dressing up in costume. “Leave that for the stage,” Sadie had explained. She encouraged modern apparel with a hint of the past for the significant days ahead. It was her belief that tour guides were to help bring the past to life, but not to make themselves part of the story. She, for one, would refuse to make herself up as a Victorian woman.

Obviously Sadie had been outnumbered, and Dylan had taken a neutral position, allowing Scarlett to decide for herself. This role would help position her at the center of the main festivities. She could greet a substantial number of attentive visitors and brag about all aspects of her home’s design and structure. For one weekend, she could completely become herself again!

Yes. Yes, she would be glad to do it.

 

Taking leave of one of her first salon-assistant trainings, Scarlett and Jennifer Nolan traveled to a vintage costume shop in Marietta where Scarlett was to choose a dress similar to one she had worn for her original housewarming party. None of the frocks available in the late 1860s fashion were quite what she was looking for, but Scarlett did try several on, noting that the costumes were definitely not as well constructed as any of her dresses from the past.

While waiting outside the dressing room, Jennifer asked, “So, are you excited to show off your mansion? I can’t believe it’s just over two weeks away!”

“Yes, very excited,” Scarlett replied, her voice muffled by the drawn curtain.

“Are you nervous? I’m nervous,” Jennifer revealed.

“A little.”

“Just remember, you’re only to speak of your life up until the time you moved into your home, as if you were really showing the house off for the first time. The visitors should get the hint fairly quickly, but if anyone asks questions about later years, say something like, ‘Well, none of us know what the future holds.’”

“I understand.”

“This grand opening is our most significant event to date. I’m really glad to have you with us now, Scarlett. You’ve been incredibly helpful in all the planning. We couldn’t have done it justice without you. I hope it turns out to be a great weekend.”

“It will be wonderful,” Scarlett determined with a bright, confident smile as she popped out of the small changing room. “Can you help me with the buttons?” she asked while floating across the floor to the larger mirror. Scarlett couldn’t help but notice the caged sensation of having so much fabric surrounding her again. It was amazing how quickly she had grown accustomed to the minimal modern attire.

“I’m glad they didn’t put zippers on these costumes,” Jennifer commented as she slipped the last button through its loop.

Scarlett examined her figure in this magenta gown and frowned. It just wasn’t right.

“I hope you don’t mind being the only person in costume. Of course, menswear hasn’t changed that much, so James will have a classic look, but you know Sadie’s stance…and I won’t be in costume, of course.”

“Well, I might not be dressing up either if I can’t find the perfect thing to wear,” Scarlett grumbled. “These gowns just don’t seem right.”

Instead of changing back into her clothes, Scarlett walked out into the shop in costume and perused the racks, now moving further into the styles of the 1870s. Surely there would be something to catch her eye.

“Oh, look at this!” Jennifer exclaimed from the far end of the rack, making room for Scarlett to view a bright olive-green beaded gown with black accents and a golden-brown underskirt. “I hope it’s your size, because you would look great in it.”

Scarlett tilted her head to the side to examine the gown. Clearly this was a fashion from a later part of the decade–one Scarlett hadn’t yet lived to see–but would most of the tour guests know the difference? It had an aspect of simplicity, yet it satisfied Scarlett’s desire for substantial detail in the beadwork and a diverse color palate.

Nodding her head to signal her approval, Scarlett marched toward the changing room and Jennifer followed, dress in hand.

“Thank goodness it fits, though the waist will need to be taken in some. But I was sure I wouldn’t find anything,” Scarlett said with relief while admiring her figure draped in silk taffeta. At the front of the bodice was what appeared to be a narrow, elongated black velvet heart covered with vertical rows of glittering beads; the top of the heart accenting her breasts, the lower point covering the front of her abdomen, giving it an even slimmer appearance than in reality. The overlaying fabric at the top of the bodice, which could have passed for silk organza, was of the golden-brown shade similar to that of the underdress and modestly covered the entirety of her breasts. The decorative cap sleeves fell just below Scarlett’s reddened, freckled shoulders and she wanted to kick herself for spending so much time carelessly exposing her skin in the outdoors. A tanned woman in a dress such as this just wouldn’t do, even if it supposedly made a woman look healthy by today’s standards. She would have to turn vampire and avoid the sun from this moment forward, though in reality it was too late to repair the damage. Pulling at the olive-green cape overskirt, Scarlett revealed more of the underskirt and noticed that the bead design gave it the appearance of a curtain beginning to lift up from a stage. Turning to her side, she examined the more natural form bustle and mid-length train behind her. It was certainly different, but she liked it.

“Would your husband approve?” Jennifer asked innocently.

“Sadie told you about that?” Scarlett asked soberly, embarrassed over the revelation.

“Oh…that,” Jennifer realized. She nodded her head, sorry to have inadvertently referenced an aspect of Rhett Butler’s character of which she and Sadie had disapproved. “Honestly, I wasn’t thinking of what she told me when I asked,” Jennifer explained.

Scarlett took a deep breath before answering.

“Yes, I think Rhett would like this, though I’m not completely certain…as neither he nor I has seen anything quite like it yet. It’s not tacky, is it?” Scarlett asked, turning from the mirror.

“No, I think it’s elegant. It suits you well.”

“Rhett always likes me in green–no matter the shade. He says it brings even more life to my eyes.”

“I agree. You look amazing! I think this is the one.”

Scarlett nodded in concurrence.

“It’s too bad your husband isn’t here. You could give tours together as yourselves.”

Scarlett chuckled with a hint of bitterness.

“Oh, he’d have nothing nice to say about the house. I wouldn’t want him to share his opinions with the guests; he’d only embarrass me,” Scarlett commented while tucking her bra straps behind the fabric in order to hide them.

Jennifer remained silent after hearing the resentment in Scarlett’s voice, embarrassed herself for bringing up such a subject. Clearly there were difficulties in the Butler marriage of which they all had been unaware, and none of them had felt very comfortable pressing Scarlett for further details, believing it to be a very private matter…and not wanting it to be true.

“Jen, do you think…do you think that I’m still married?” Scarlett asked quietly after her wedding band caught the light and sparked her notice.

“What do you mean?”

“Am I still married, now that Rhett isn’t with me anymore? Now that I’m not with him?”

Jennifer was left speechless by the question.

“He’s not alive anymore, is he?” Scarlett continued. The thought caused her to shiver. “Doesn’t that mean that I’m a widow again?”

“Uh… These are very unique circumstances. I don’t know if I have a proper answer for you,” Jennifer helplessly replied.

“It won’t matter, I suppose, for I shall never marry again,” Scarlett decided solemnly. “Marriage has never settled well with me. I want to be independent, like you or Sadie, someday. But I wonder…” Scarlett started as she crossed her arms over her waist and began to chew on a thumbnail.

“Wonder what?”

“I wonder how it would be if Rhett somehow came to this time, just like I have? I wonder what we would do? Would we make a life together?” Scarlett voiced, then added silently, “Or is there nothing left?” Bracing herself with a full breath, she continued, “I don’t know how he feels toward me anymore. I suppose I never have,” Scarlett timidly revealed, never having voiced these concerns to anyone before. There was a small sense of relief for having finally said it openly.

Uncomfortable with the subject and having absolutely no advice to give, Jennifer stood from her chair and walked up to Scarlett, putting her arm around Scarlett’s waist and turning her so they could both face the mirror.

“You look great. And if your husband was to see you in this dress, he’d fall in love with you all over again,” Jennifer said, forcing a smile and hoping what she said was the truth and would soothe Scarlett for the time being.

Scarlett shook her head, but wore a bittersweet smile on her lips.

“If only it were that simple.”

Jennifer let that thought hang in the air a few moments as she observed Scarlett, who seemed to be in a thick fog. Deciding to change the topic of conversation and rid Scarlett of this melancholy mood, she said, “Guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“Greg Atwood came to see me yesterday.”

Scarlett slowly rotated her head to look directly at Jennifer.

“Did he, now?” Scarlett replied while attempting to conceal a smirk, her eyes regaining their life.

“Of course he requested the meeting to discuss our educational programs, but obviously he had an ulterior motive. Sadie was right, he asked me out.”

“Out?”

With a smile, Jennifer clarified, “Like on a date. He’s interested in me. He would like to see me socially.”

“He wants to court you.”

Jennifer nodded, noting the lack of surprise in Scarlett’s statement.

“And how did you answer him?” Scarlett asked with great interest.

“Swear you won’t tell this to Sadie. Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I swear,” Scarlett swiftly replied.

“I was so anxious. I couldn’t think of what to say, so I thanked him and told him how flattered I was and…I lied and told him that I was already in a committed relationship,” Jennifer concluded swiftly, divulging that she’d found it necessary to use Sadie’s suggested fib.

Scarlett laughed wholeheartedly, completely understanding Jennifer’s desire to keep this news from Sadie. She had soon realized the best strategy with Miss I-told-you-so was not to be bested by her. Jennifer was right; Sadie would never pass up this opportunity if she had knowledge of the incident.

“He made a very generous contribution last week, so at least he had the decency to pursue me after the money was safely on the books,” Jennifer added, touching on Sadie’s suggestion that they might lose Greg Atwood as a donor if she had rejected him. “That says something positive about him, I guess.”

“So, you have no interest at all? He is ever so wealthy from what you’ve said. I thought he was handsome enough; more handsome, knowing he has money,” Scarlett concluded with a grin.

“You’re sounding like a Jane Austen character, now,” Jennifer replied in kind. “I’ll meet my Mr. Darcy, someday, and Greg Atwood certainly isn’t what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“Someone closer to my own age, to start with…and to not discuss my personal life at this time,” Jennifer answered good-humoredly.

“Is Mr. Atwood to attend the grand opening?”

Jennifer nodded, her concern exposed through her kind blue eyes.

“Hmm… And I suppose he’ll expect to see your beau as your escort that evening?” Scarlett asked while fiddling with the train of the dress.

“I could make up something…say that he’s out of town?”

“Out of town?” Scarlett repeated, her focus remaining on her own image. As she revealed her diminutive waist by pulling the excess fabric toward her lower back, her eyes lightened. Of course! Yes, there definitely was a way she could assist Jennifer.

“I have an idea.”

“Care to share it?” Jennifer asked suspiciously after watching the cogs turn in Scarlett’s mind.

“Hmm, best not just yet. First, I need to speak with Sadie–”

“Wait a minute, you said you wouldn’t tell her about this.”

“And I _won’t_ ,” Scarlett insisted with a charming smile. “I need her help so I can help you fool your Mr. Atwood, but she doesn’t need to know my reasons.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, absolutely. Have no worries,” Scarlett assured. “After all, Mr. Atwood isn’t the first man I’ve ever fooled.”

“OK,” Jennifer spoke slowly, enchanted by the sparkling green eyes of her apparent savior. “I’m putting my trust in you.”

Scarlett nodded, feeling good for being able to offer help to someone whom she would never be able to fully repay for all that had been done for her. Also, what fun to put her skills of deception to use!

“It will be my pleasure,” Scarlett said, her confidence again shining through her entire being.

“All right, Cinderella,” Jennifer began, encouraging Scarlett to step down off the pedestal situated in front of the mirror, “it’s approaching midnight, and we still need to find accessories. Carolyn’s probably wondering why I haven’t delivered you home yet. Soon you must turn back into Kate Harvey, I’m afraid.”

Scarlett glanced at her image one last time, twisting her loose, curled hair up against her head. As much as she enjoyed this modern world, today had been the first time in a long time that she had felt–or at least looked–like herself. She was Scarlett O’Hara. No, she corrected herself, Scarlett Butler–dressed as a gracious Victorian woman, mistress of the most magnificent home on Peachtree Street. How she would have shined in this gown later in her time! Well, at least for one evening and a following weekend, she would be able to introduce herself as Scarlett Butler. What a surprising relief that would be!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, one of my very favorite chapters so far! Just a minor language warning for this one. I hope you enjoy! (Slightly OT, but if you are someone who would love to discuss GWTW in a message board format, I'll be making our yahoo 'GWTW fanfic archive' group public again in the next few weeks. If you're interested in joining, check in around early-to-mid-February. Hopefully it'll be searchable by then.).

Part One

 

Chapter 12

 

Dylan, Peggy, Jennifer, and Sadie were positioned around the grand dining room table, each of their individual nervous habits on display as they silently waited for James to arrive. The fact that today was September fifteenth–the day of the grand opening–was cause enough for a certain level of anxiety, but they had also received word that James had in his possession the results of Scarlett’s DNA test. He was on his way to the Butler mansion to deliver the news before the chaos of the day really began.

Jennifer chewed on the end of a pencil while attempting to edit her remarks for the evening, though in reality her thoughts were elsewhere. Peggy was going over a checklist for the night’s schedule, but continued to be distracted by an excessive need to straighten her jacket or check the security of the buttons at the end of her sleeves. Dylan habitually swished his fingers through his wild hair as he silently read through his opening speech that was to be given at the reception. And Sadie’s legs, crossed at the ankles below her chair, were bouncing with full of agitation as she read her messages; the shaking immediately halted the moment James Barrows entered the room with an envelope in hand.

“I thought we might like to do this together,” James suggested, holding the sealed envelope out to Dylan.

Dylan took the envelope from James and looked to the expectant faces one by one.

“Sadie, would you do us the honor?” he requested.   

She retreated back into her chair. Clearly the answer was _no_.

“We might need some scientific explanation if its written in geneticist jargon and muddled in statistics. Who amongst us received excellent marks in their biological and mathematical studies? A raise of hands?” Dylan requested, knowing full well what he was doing. “What, did we all perform that poorly in our courses? We must all be of the artistic sort,” he continued after seeing nary a hand raised, settling his blue eyes on Sadie.

She released her tightly-held breath and reluctantly stretched her hand out like a teenager bathed in ennui, recognizing that Dylan had decided on her all along.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Sadie expressed, as she took the envelope. “It’s so you all can watch my face when I realize how wrong I was.”

“You know that’s not my reason,” Dylan responded seriously. “We have all had doubts about her identity.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that I’m quite willing to admit that I was wrong. You know I’ve warmed up to the idea,” she stressed directly to Jennifer.

Expelling another breath, Sadie set the envelope down on the table and slid her finger along the edge to break the seal. She looked around the room to her allies before slipping her hand inside the envelope and shakily pulling out the report. After she unfolded the sheet of paper, everyone halted any miniscule movement, anticipating the announcement.

Sadie’s eyes took a laser-like focus, and as the seconds passed, a range of emotions played on her face. At one point she shook her head, causing Peggy to wonder if they had all been wrong about Scarlett’s identity. Sadie then pursed her lips and followed with a difficult swallow before finally allowing herself to breathe, having read the entire report. The result could have been positive or negative, as Sadie’s expression was frustratingly unreadable.

She looked up to the expectant faces, her mouth slightly hanging open, taking in a short breath that exited just as quickly.

“Um…” Sadie began, unable to yet form a statement. “Yeah…”

It was as if she’d just walked from the scene of an accident and was a bit unsure of her surroundings. Dylan made a move to assist, but she found her footing.

“According to this, we should be more than ninety-nine point nine percent sure that…that… Basically, there’s no doubt…”

Sadie loudly expelled air through her lips, frustrated with her pathetic attempts at an explanation.

“Pull yourself together, Sadie,” she demanded of herself with a barely audible whisper. “There were a significant number of matching genetic markers–enough to say conclusively that she’s a member of the family.”

Jennifer snatched the paper from Sadie’s hand to make sure she’d heard correctly and the rest gathered around her while Sadie slouched down, leaned her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.

“She’s Scarlett O’Hara!” Jennifer exclaimed–even if that wasn’t exactly what had just been proven.

“Shit,” Sadie repeated over and over, the sharpness of the word damped by her palms; her reaction in extreme contrast with her brightly smiling coworkers.

“Hey,” Dylan quickly returned to her side, rubbing her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up for being the most rational amongst us.”

Sadie moaned as she pulled her head back slightly. “I just had to be right, didn’t I? How could I have been so…so… It’s a wonder she ever dared spend another second with me after our first meeting. I was a mess that day, wasn’t I?” she asked Jennifer, only to receive a nervous smile. “I wish I had your Southern charm,” Sadie directed to James and Peggy. “My callous words might have sounded a bit kinder during those early meetings if I’d possessed that skill. Instead I was just…my cold, awful self.” Concluding with another shake of the head, Sadie returned her face to the shelter of her hands. 

Peggy sat herself down in the chair next to Sadie’s and wrapped her arm around Sadie’s shoulders, giving her a loving squeeze.

“You know what you are?” she asked, waiting to answer until Sadie turned her apprehensive eyes to her. “You’re human. And sometimes you’re too smart for your own good,” she teased, triggering a silent laugh in Sadie. “You’ve gotten to know Scarlett over this time. She’s a resilient woman and she’s stood up for herself where you’re concerned, hasn’t she?”

Sadie nodded.

“She forgave you long ago. And you’ve well made it up to her. Don’t you think she’d wonder why someone who dislikes her would want to hire her in a very important position? She knows she has your respect. What’s past is past. Now we’re all on the same page. We know who she is and we’re all going to help her in any way that we can.”

“Especially me,” Sadie announced with resolve.

“There you go,” Peggy encouraged with a nod of the head.

“Thanks,” Sadie replied with an appreciative nod of her own.

“What now?” James asked from across the table. “When are we going to tell her the news?”

Sadie chuckled.

“What news? She has no doubt in her mind about who she is.”

“But she needs to know that we know,” Jennifer added.

Sadie nodded, recognizing the importance.

“Should we tell her this afternoon?” Jennifer asked.

“Or wait until after the gathering tonight?” James suggested. “A lot of the family will be in attendance. Do we know how she’ll react to the news? How will she introduce herself once she knows the connection can be proven? We might be wise to take it slow. As her social worker, Vanessa Davis should be involved in the transition.”

 “I agree,” Dylan chimed in. “Let’s tell her after the party is over. Car and I could tell her on our way home, if you wish, or we could do it as a group…gather here at the end of the evening.”

“As a group,” Jennifer requested.

“OK, it’s settled then. Won’t she be overjoyed!”

 

*             *              *

 

Scarlett stood alone in her bedroom, glancing into the 143 year-old mirror, pleased with the feminine image it was reflecting. In full costume, Scarlett was glad that the day was not as balmy as the previous one, for she now found shorts and tank tops or sundresses much more comfortable in the heat than these generous layers of fabric. It would be quite distracting to begin perspiring during one of her tours, but thankfully, the house remained quite comfortable as it usually had in the heat of summer. Stepping to the window near her bed, she looked out, pleased to see evidence of the afternoon sun in all its glory. What a terrible shame if the successive rain showers that had befallen them last week–the result of a tropical storm–had continued until today. Visitors would not have been able to enjoy the veranda and grounds on one of the last few official days of summer.

Moving to her vanity, Scarlett pulled out the cushioned stool embroidered with roses in gold and pink thread, certain that she was breaking the rules again, but decided it was a special day and she should be allowed to do as she wished. Holding a noble posture without the aid of stays, she sat herself down on the wooden stool as she had every day that she had been mistress of this house. Dylan had been kind enough to let her enjoy her space, alone and uninterrupted, to mentally prepare herself for the evening. Smiling at her reflection, she couldn’t help but be pleased with herself and how the day was progressing.

Just a short time ago, her small group of friends had presented her with a gift. Peggy said it had been Sadie’s idea, but Scarlett was skeptical. She looked down and twisted the silver object, inappropriately circling her middle finger, though her wedding band did not allow for it to take its proper position. Carolyn, Jennifer, and Sadie had shared in the presentation of her very own Claddagh ring, one like she had tried on over a month ago. While this type of ring’s purpose was generally romantic in nature, it took on a new meaning today. Scarlett tenderly thought back on their statements, beginning with Jennifer.

 

_“As a token of good luck for tonight, and because of the bond we’ve formed over the last two months, we wanted you to have something you can look upon whenever you feel lonely or lost or when you need any additional strength. We want it to remind you that you have us. While we can’t replace what has disappeared, we hope we can be your family in this time. You have our loyalty…”_

_“Our love…” Carolyn added._

_“And our friendship,” Sadie concluded with complete sincerity before handing Scarlett the ring._

 

Thank God for their friendship, thought Scarlett before she kissed the ring with affection. How strange to have so many people care for her welfare! After alienating the majority of her old friends and family, leaving only Melanie Wilkes as her champion, there was something to be said for beginning again with a clean slate. Now she would have to fight to hold onto these new bonds, which is what she had failed to do in her past.

After readjusting her engagement ring on her right hand, Scarlett gave her hair a final examination and smiled, noting the wish Sadie had granted her earlier in the day. After she had dressed for the festivities, Scarlett and Carolyn stopped by _Evolve_ _Salon_ in order for Sadie to style her hair for the evening. After several minutes of discussion, they had agreed on a messy, yet structured, up-do that in the end would look like a nest of short silky ringlets, leaving a few stragglers to fall down the back of her neck. After Sadie had slipped the last pin in place, she spun Scarlett in her chair to admire the work in the full mirror. Her hair was glossy perfection and would complement the gown wonderfully. However, Scarlett had realized that they had forgotten to address one critical concern and before she’d had a moment to voice that concern, Sadie had pulled out the smallest of curling irons and said, “I have a surprise for you.”

Scarlett sat at her vanity now admiring that sweet surprise: frizzled bangs!

“I suppose you wouldn’t find my hair so charming,” she voiced, directing her comment to her absent husband, her eyes being drawn to the door that led to his bedroom. She stood and floated on her ballet slipper flats through the narrow passage into his room, hoping she could somehow find and collect him there to serve as her escort for the evening’s festivities. The night of her crush, he had done the same for her.

Scarlett recalled that he’d entered her room as she was putting on a pair of glittering earrings at her vanity, and his dark surveying eyes were not to be distracted away from the picture she made. He had been so handsome that Scarlett had difficulty wresting her eyes from him, too; she knew they would be a sensation at the party. Scarlett remembered him complementing her appearance and then leaning over to lightly kiss her on the cheek, careful to avoid mussing her hair and freshly-powdered face. His large hands expertly linked the clasp of her New Orleans-purchased peridot and pearl necklace, then lingered on her shoulders, massaging the anxiety-peppered eagerness away. Scarlett shivered at the memory, even 143 years later.

If only she had someone to dote on her tonight. She did see the appeal of an independent life, but couldn’t help but remember those early days of her marriage. It was nice to be admired, to be cared for in such a way. Disappointment consumed her as she sat on Rhett’s bed, remembering that she’d lost his fondness long ago. Even if she hadn’t crossed into a different time, it would have been very difficult–if not impossible–to regain his interest. No, she only would have had servants to help her with tasks such as those, completed without care or affection.

Thinking on those days, now that her mind had time and space to play with the memories, she realized that she hadn’t been someone Rhett only wanted to decorate, show off, and use, as she had previously suspected. No, it was more than that, deeper than that. His obvious contentment that night of her housewarming party was not related to his social or personal desires. Simply put, it was _Scarlett’s_ joyful contentment that had brought him happiness.

“Oh, Rhett, I know I said I wouldn’t have wanted you here tonight, but I do,” Scarlett spoke to every corner of the tranquil room. “I don’t care if you’d be cruel or taunting because…because I know you wouldn’t truly mean it.” Tears dropped from her eyes at something that had just occurred to her. “Because in spite of everything…I know you cared. You must have cared for me.”

Scarlett clamped her eyes shut, refusing to let any more tears fall. Lifting her hand up to swipe away the streaming droplets, she paused just in time to save her makeup. Rushing to her bed to reach her reticule, she pulled out a tissue and sat at her vanity to safely dab away the wetness.

“So foolish. What’s done is done,” she admonished herself, straightening the delicate black-beaded choker Sadie had lent her before setting off again for Rhett’s bedroom. Smoothing the bed’s rumpled quilt, she wanted to make certain that the room looked as perfect as possible. She stopped in her tracks, instinct warning her to avoid running her knees into Bonnie’s small bed–which in reality wasn’t there.

“How many times have I done that, now?” Scarlett reproved herself. “I must remember that Bonnie hasn’t been born yet. And of course, why would they have set her bed up in here? As far as they know she occupied the nursery.” Apparently, the unsettling gossip of a girl child sleeping in her father’s room had not reached its tentacles into 2011. “Well, it’s for the best. I won’t even have need to mention such a thing tonight.”

As she was making sure everything was in its proper place in her own bedroom, Peggy came up to collect her.

“It’s never looked better,” Peggy complimented. “Your touch is everywhere now.”

Scarlett looked about, admiring the space. Yes, she had put a lot of work into the house, adding any curios that she could cheaply get her hands on in order to bring some life to the previously unornamented spaces. The home definitely looked more spirited than when she had first seen it almost two months ago.

“You have a guest waiting on you downstairs,” Peggy announced.

“Sean?” Scarlett asked.

“Yes, that’s the gentleman.”

Scarlett was grateful that all her plans had come to fruition so far, though she had faced a rough start. A week and a half ago, she had asked Sadie for Sean Daley’s phone number in order to invite him to the grand opening as her guest, but Sadie had been extremely reluctant. It was clear to Scarlett that Sadie had been concerned that she had a romantic interest in Sean, and she firmly reminded Scarlett that she was still a married woman. Well, at least Scarlett knew Sadie’s answer to her question regarding her marital status. Apparently Sadie thought Scarlett should be tied to Rhett Butler until the day she died…in the twenty-first century. It nearly took an oath that she was only interested in Sean’s friendship for Sadie to grant Scarlett the phone number. Getting Sean to agree to attend was the easy part.

“Wonderful!” Scarlett exclaimed as she pulled on her gloves.

Peggy gave her a strange look, possibly thinking Scarlett was moving a little fast toward another man as well. If she only knew the true time between Frank Kennedy’s death and her engagement to Rhett Butler! The period between the last time she had seen Rhett and her ‘dalliance’ with Sean would seem like an eternity.

“Peggy, I must tell you something in absolute secret. Sean Daley is here tonight, not for me, but for Jen.”

“Why for Jennifer?”

“Did you hear about how Greg Atwood, the wealthy donor, had taken great interest in Jen?”

Peggy nodded, a smile coming to her lips as she remembered Sadie’s telling of the tale.

“Well, he’s going to be here tonight and Jen thought it necessary to mention to him that she had a beau in order to terminate his interest in her. She didn’t want to tell him that she didn’t find him appropriate for her, so she lied. We figured that Mr. Atwood would expect to see Jen’s beau here tonight and I thought it important that he see proof of it, so–”

“Sean is going to play the role of her boyfriend for the evening,” Peggy determined.

“Exactly. So, if you happen to run into Mr. Atwood and he asks anything remotely about Jen’s beau, you can be sure to know how to respond. And one other thing to remember; Sadie must never know of this plan. I’m not sure how we’ll keep it from her, but be sure to not let her hear it from you. She thinks Mr. Daley is here as my guest.”

“Why are you keeping it from Sadie?” Peggy wondered.

“She’s the one who suggested Jen lie to Mr. Atwood, but Jen had told her that it wouldn’t be necessary and she implied that she would be able to handle his advances with honesty.”

“And we’d like to make sure that Sadie can’t add that foresight onto her résumé,” Peggy joked.

“Exactly,” Scarlett concluded with a nod, reaching for her rather weighty reticule. “Now, I must greet Sean, introduce him to Jennifer, and make sure James and Dylan also know of our plan. Oh, won’t tonight be lovely!” Scarlett exclaimed as she exited her bedroom, well prepared for the merriments ahead.

 

*              *              *

 

“Good evening. I’m so glad you could join us for this important celebration. My name is Scarlett Butler and I am very eager to show you the house that my husband and I built during the spring and summer of eighteen sixty-eight,” Scarlett began with enthusiasm, shoving all her nerves to the side as she stood in the entrance hall in front of her group of twenty attendees, which thankfully included Jennifer Nolan, Sean Daley, and the Connollys. She couldn’t believe that she’d been given the very first tour of the evening and would be the only guide giving two tours: the first and the last. “My husband, Rhett, my two children, Wade and Ella, and I have just moved in and I am _very_ happy to finally have a house of my own. I’m thrilled for this opportunity to take you on a tour of it and hopefully you’ll love it as much as I do. Right now you are standing in our grand entrance hall, which as you see accommodates quite a few visitors at once. My favorite piece in this space is of course the beautiful cut glass chandelier,” she continued, pointing up to the original gas light fixture above her. “It’s comprised of Bohemian crystal. I hope you’re able to take a look at it this evening as you depart; the play of light on the prisms will be most effective in the dark. For a party such as we’re having tonight, we would generally send the gentlemen up to the ballroom while the ladies would climb these grand stairs to a room in order to preen for an evening of dancing and celebration, but I don’t wish to separate the ladies and gentlemen tonight. When I have very important guests, such as you fine people, I like to first invite them into the reception room. Shall we?” Scarlett continued, reaching her arm out to guide the group to the doorway of the grand reception room.

“ _Very nice_ ,” Sadie whispered to her with admiration before Scarlett joined her group in the next room filled with a growing confidence.

“What luck to be on that tour, hmm?” James noted to Sadie, who was to be starting her own tour in fifteen minutes. “No one could ever do justice to it better than the Mistress herself.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sadie stated seriously, feigning offense, only to chuckle a moment later. “No, you’re right. We’ll never be able to top that. You and I, we _must_ join her last tour and observe her in all her glory.”      

“I’ll have to catch up with you. My tour overlaps her last one by fifteen minutes.”

“Just walk and talk really fast and don’t take any questions,” Sadie jokingly advised. Shaking her head in stunned admiration, she said, “That’s her true self. She’s absolutely glowing.”

           

As Scarlett’s final tour wound down, she escorted the finely-dressed group of men and women up to the ballroom where the dedication ceremony was soon to begin, and encouraged them to take some refreshment. After the last member of the group complemented and thanked Scarlett for such a wonderful tour, James stopped to praise her for her skill as a guide, concluding with a warm, fatherly hug.

“I’m proud of you. You were magnificent!”

“Thank you, James,” Scarlett replied, swelling with the praise.

“I’ll see you inside,” he said before stepping away, leaving Scarlett and Sadie at the top of the staircase that led to the ballroom.

“I’m _so_ impressed!” Sadie stressed. “How did it feel?”

“Well…I…I can’t even describe it,” Scarlett struggled. “I’ve felt so weighed down, recently–by having to pretend that I’m not who I am–but tonight, it was as if I were floating on air. And everyone seemed so fascinated with my home! How could I feel anything but joy on a night such as this? Oh, but you must have noticed those questions about the bedrooms? I could have died!”

“The separate master bedrooms?” Sadie asked with a smirk.

Scarlett nodded.

“Yes, your face did turn an interesting shade of red. And your insistence that it was ‘none of their business’ was a classic moment I’ll never forget. I’m sure they thought it was just brilliant acting,” Sadie decided with a chuckle. “I get those types of questions all the time. Most people don’t understand that it was the fashionable thing to do during your era. Maybe if they’d watched _Downton Abbey_ , they would understand the logistics of it. Of course I think separate bedrooms is a smart idea and I tell them I think it ought to be brought back into modern homes. I once toured a home that belonged to a robber baron–”

“What type of baron?” Scarlett asked with a confused twist to her face.

“A robber baron? It’s someone who grew extremely wealthy on less-than-moral business practices–actually, I’m not exactly sure how this man conducted business, but I had a friend who referred to Mr. Hill in this manner and he certainly ran with the robber baron crowd on Jekyll Island. But, in this man’s home, he and his wife had adjoining, but separate bedrooms and the tour guide used the excuse that the railroad magnate enjoyed onion sandwiches at night and that was why they slept in separate bedrooms. Whether that’s true or not, I suppose all guides have some go-to reason for it, even if no explanation is needed.”

“What do you tell people about Rhett and me?” Scarlett asked tentatively, not sure she wanted to know the answer, but too curious not to ask.

“Uh… I don’t know if I want to say.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel comfortable talking about it with you.”

“What do you tell them?” Scarlett pressed, now more eager than ever to know what was being said about her private life.

Sadie bit her lip, possibly hoping to permanently clamp her mouth shut in the process. She adjusted the thin gold belt over her lacy navy blue dress, buying herself some time.

“OK. I just try to cover all the bases– Oh! What an insanely unfortunate choice of words,” Sadie grimaced, briefly covering her hot cheeks with her hands as she realized what she had said.

Scarlett hadn’t a clue as to what she was referring.

“Sorry,” Sadie composed herself, clasping her hands in front of her chest, as if preparing to pray. “I tell visitors that sometimes people like to sleep apart and sometimes they like to sleep together. I tell them that I think you and your husband had your separate rooms for dressing, et cetera, but that I assume you shared one bed most of the time.”

Scarlett’s face turned an uncomfortable red, but thankfully in the dim light of the hall, it was barely noticeable.

“Of course I’m only making educated assumptions, but it’s a fair assessment, isn’t it?” Sadie asked, stepping aside to allow a guest to pass by into the ballroom.

“Of…course. Yes,” Scarlett replied shakily, hoping her reply sounded authentic. She wasn’t about to admit her true sleeping arrangement. It had caused enough gossip in her own time; there was no need to extend it to today.

“So, which one?” Sadie followed up.

“Which one what?”

“Which bedroom did you share?”

“Why, I… I thought this subject made you uncomfortable!” Scarlett swiftly replied, her voice rising with her embarrassment.

“It does. But I guess it doesn’t decrease my curiosity,” Sadie continued casually. “I mean, since you brought it up…”

“Well, I– Mine,” Scarlett answered with finality, focusing on the floor to avoid eye contact. “There, that should put the subject to rest,” Scarlett thought to herself. “I’m so hungry, I fear that I am to faint. Shall we find some refreshment?” Scarlett asked, moving toward the ballroom before Sadie had a chance to answer.

After each gathered a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of wine, Sadie and Scarlett moved toward the center of the toasty room in order to join Peggy, Jennifer, and Sean, but were stopped by the wandering event photographer asking to take their picture together. After giving him their names and posing for the snapshot, a narrow piece of paper came shooting out of the camera and Sadie audibly reacted with delight.

“Oh, it’s like a Polaroid!”

“And digital, all wrapped up in one,” he explained. “Here, it’s all yours,” the photographer said, handing Sadie the photograph.

Grinning widely, Sadie riskily passed the wine glass to the hand that held her plate and fanned herself with the print, reciting, “Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it like a Polaroid picture.”

Scarlett stared at her curiously.

“I’m guessing I didn’t succeed in turning you into an Outkast fan?”

Scarlett shook her head, remembering the handful of songs Sadie had shared with her.

“The pride of Hotlanta. There have been so many great artists to come out of or base themselves in Georgia; it’s partly what drew me to here. I thought there must be something special in the water…or the red clay.” Holding out the slip of paper for Scarlett to view, she continued, “I didn’t know they still made these. See, it develops the photograph immediately. My grandpa took hundreds of photos of us grandkids with that type of camera.”

Scarlett couldn’t believe her eyes when she took hold of the souvenir. In just a minute, the blank sheet of paper magically revealed the image of her and Sadie smiling happily into the camera lens.

“There’s a saying that we learn something new each day. For you it’s about twenty things, minimum, isn’t it?”

Scarlett nodded, giggling at the thought.

“Why don’t you keep it? It’ll remind you of your very best friend in the whole wide world,” Sadie joked with self-deprecation, taking Scarlett’s plate and quarter-full wine glass from her so she could place the photograph in her reticule.

“Listen, Scarlett,” Sadie began seriously after handing Scarlett her plate and glass and taking a sip of her Riesling. “Peggy figures that you’re not as upset with me anymore, but I would like to again apologize for my behavior when I first met you. I can be a real judgmental pain in the ass when I disagree with someone or think I know better than anyone else. I was wrong. I have no doubt that you’re Scarlett Butler and I just wanted you to know it. And as for your costume, I was wrong about that, too. I’m so glad I got to see you as yourself and I think it adds another layer of excitement to the evening. Crow, meet my mouth,” she concluded, popping a small savory pastry past her lips.   

“You have no doubts at all?” Scarlett asked after swallowing a large bite from an oyster patty.

“None at all.”

Maybe this was why Sadie had been so kind today, Scarlett wondered. Before getting a chance to thank her for her repentant words, one of the volunteers arrived requesting Sadie’s assistance and she took her leave, promising to catch up with Scarlett later.

Scarlett took a sip of her pinot noir and scanned the room to locate Peggy or Jennifer or if neither of them were to be found, James. With his height, she could surely seek him out. And if all else failed, she might join Carolyn and the children in the playroom if they hadn’t already arrived on the third floor for the ceremony.

Catching sight of James first, Scarlett began to head in his direction but again her path was blocked, this time by a stately woman who was studying her with probing intensity.

“Where on earth did they find you?” she asked in an affable Georgian accent.

“Pardon me?” Scarlett asked, thrown by the question.

“You absolutely look just like her!” the silver-haired woman exclaimed. “My husband said there was a look-alike giving tours–we were on one with our darling Sadie Grier–but I hadn’t seen you until just this moment!”

“I’m sorry, who is it that I am similar to?” Scarlett questioned.

The slender woman, outfitted in a long-sleeved dress with beaded bodice and voluminous flowing white skirt laughed merrily at the question.

“Aren’t you precious! I do apologize; I should have introduced myself. My name is Marilyn Enright and you are?”

“Scarlett Butler,” she responded, forgetting the proper identity to use.

Again, Marilyn Enright expelled amused laughter.

“Why, yes, of course you are.” She winked. “I suppose you ought not break character, but I am dying to know your name.”

“Oh…yes. I am supposed to remain in character for the evening,” Scarlett lied, quickly attempting to remedy the situation. “My true name is Kate Harvey,” she nearly whispered, as if sharing a secret.

“You look so much like my great-great grandmother, you take my breath away! You could be identical twins, truly! We must be related in some way–”

“Your great-great grandmother!” Scarlett exclaimed after the information soaked in.

“Why, yes.”

“Who– How–” Scarlett sputtered. “Uh, I mean, which child…”

“Are you quite familiar with Scarlett’s life? Why, of course you are, if you’re giving tours as her character,” Marilyn answered for herself. “I’m sure you’re familiar with her son Wade Hamilton.”

Scarlett nodded her head, her mouth having gone completely dry.

“Oh, dear God, please don’t let me faint,” Scarlett silently prayed, the heat of the room threatening her consciousness, the music of the small chamber group echoing in her ears.

 “Wade Hampton Hamilton, her oldest, was my great grandfather.”

“Wade,” Scarlett repeated with scarcely a sound, her entire being shaking. “Darling Wade,” she whispered, staring to the regal woman before her: her great-great granddaughter! Scarlett’s eyes blurred, muddling her vision as she desperately tried to find the image of her son in this woman’s face or in her deportment.

“Are you perfectly well, dear?” Mrs. Enright asked with concern. “They haven’t imprisoned you in a medieval corset for the evening, have they? I wouldn’t blame you for falling unconscious.”

Scarlett shook her head, unable to speak. How could her great-great granddaughter be at least 40 years older than she was at this moment? She was only 26! Her son only nine! Fighting an outburst that was threatening to escape her lips, Scarlett tried to push aside the profanity that Sadie once used to describe a situation such as this. Scarlett couldn’t help but think how appropriate it was for this very moment and she could not shake it from her thoughts. This was the truest definition of a mindfuck.

Downing the remainder of her wine, Scarlett forced a smile and bravely pushed on.

“I am well. I thank you for asking. I’m afraid I haven’t had much to eat this evening.”

“And me, detaining you further,” Marilyn said with a frown, looking upon Scarlett’s empty plate. “My greatest apologies. Oh, William,” she called, turning as her husband approached. “I have now discovered her name. It’s Kate Harvey. We haven’t yet established if we’re related or not, but I shall pursue it. She looks too much like my great-great grandmother not to share some blood. I wish the light was better, but I do believe you have her famous green eyes as well.”

Scarlett nodded nervously, fearful that she was going to be discovered.

“Kate!” Carolyn called.

Scarlett turned her head in the direction of the familiar voice and happily found Carolyn approaching with Aidan in her arms. What relief!

“Please, take me away from here!” Scarlett’s mind screamed as the beautiful, refined Carolyn joined the small gathering.

“Why, hello,” Carolyn greeted the Enrights. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Carolyn Jensen! Could she be any lovelier?” Marilyn asked her husband before leaning over to touch her cheek to Carolyn’s in an air kiss. “And your darling son…”

“Aidan,” Carolyn specified.

“Darling.”

After reading the pained expression on Scarlett’s face, Carolyn turned to her and said, “Dylan tells me the presentation is soon to begin. I thought you might like to join me and the children.”

Scarlett nodded, her wide eyes giving thanks.

“It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Enright. Mr. Enright,” Scarlett began shakily before Marilyn took Scarlett’s hand in hers, the squeeze providing Scarlett with an unexpected jolt of connection. They were family. She had kin in her new world. She wasn’t alone.

“We must talk later in the evening and determine which ancestor we have in common, even if it goes all the way back to the Prudhommes. You very much resemble Solange Prudhomme.”

“Grandma Robillard?” Scarlett thoughtlessly expressed, dying to know if Marilyn Enright was in possession of the portrait.

“What did you say?” Marilyn questioned with increased interest.

“Olivia is begging for you to join us. I really need to get back to my daughter,” Carolyn intervened. “I’m sorry, but we must go,” she apologized to the Enrights before taking Scarlett’s hand and leading her away. “Are you all right?” Carolyn questioned, never having observed such a stunned look on Scarlett’s face before–even when they had discussed the topic of contraception.

“That… That was my great-great granddaughter!” Scarlett expelled, pools of moisture forming in her eyes. How had such a revelation stirred so much emotion in her?

“Yes, she is,” Carolyn answered simply.

“You knew? Do you know her well?” Scarlett asked.

“Mrs. Enright has had us over to her home for dinner several times since Dylan took this position. I like her very much. I find her charming, intelligent, and very tenacious–a good role model for any woman. She’s a prominent member of Atlanta society–a lawyer, actually. You should be very proud.”

Olivia ran up to Scarlett as she and Carolyn approached a quiet corner of the ballroom and hugged her around her knees. Attempting to shake away the recent shock, Scarlett crouched down and smiled at the young girl, so familiar to her now.

“You’re so pretty!” Olivia praised shyly, pulling at one of Scarlett’s loose curls. “Can you dress me up like this tomorrow after our math puzzles?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Scarlett promised, giving Olivia a loving squeeze before rising to glance into the crowd in search of Marilyn Enright. She needed another look at her. She found Marilyn in the corner directly across from her, speaking with none other than Sadie Grier. When Marilyn’s eyes finally met Scarlett’s, she couldn’t help but turn her attention back to Carolyn and Aidan, still nervous that she would be found out.

“They’re probably talking about me,” Scarlett thought with suspicion as she pulled the gloves from her sweaty hands. “Sadie better not dare reveal anything.”

Scarlett planned on secretly watching Marilyn throughout the night, but would abscond before her great-great grandchild had a chance to speak with her again.

“Scarlett! The star of the evening. The belle of the ball,” Dylan teased before taking her in a brotherly hug. “You were magnificent tonight.”

Scarlett beamed, proudly turning her head to look about the crowded room lit by a mixture of light bulbs and still functioning gas light.

“I see you met Marilyn Enright.”

Scarlett nodded shyly.

“She’s one of the founders of the Atlanta Irish Institute and president of its board of directors. She takes great pride in her family and in her Irish heritage,” he stressed.

“Truly?” Scarlett asked with a timid smile.

Dylan nodded, turning to wrap his arm around Scarlett’s shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her before?” Scarlett asked, looking up at him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Dylan answered, “It wasn’t the right time, perhaps. You were adjusting…healing… We didn’t want to overwhelm you. We knew we were risking a lot tonight, but we wanted you here with us. You know we agreed to keep your future a secret. And as you well know, Mrs. Enright is a part of your future.”

“Wade’s great granddaughter,” Scarlett said sedately. “It’s more than my mind can digest at the moment. You should have warned me.” Looking about the faces in the room again, a thought occurred to her. “Are there others here?”

Dylan answered her with a subtle nod.

“Are you going to be kind enough to inform me of which ones they are?”

“Maybe you should make it a little game for yourself this evening,” he suggested, kissing her on her forehead and stepping away in the direction of the gathering of James, Peggy, Sadie, and Jennifer on the opposite side of the room.

“A little game?” Scarlett repeated to herself huffily. “I’d rather not make a fool out of myself again,” she thought, wishing she’d been prepared for all of her relations ahead of time. How many types of grandchildren did she have, anyway? There could be a possibility of three or even four generations present.

Scarlett turned to seek out the refreshment table in order to fill up another plate with food, praying no further relations would detain her along the way. This time, the refreshment table was a little less crowded and Scarlett had more time to admire the spread. While her stomach was craving savory food, she couldn’t help but be tempted by the variety of desserts, from chocolate-dipped strawberries to darling lemon petits fours, and she slipped a few strawberries onto her plate. Scarlett decided to have another glass of wine, though she was excited to see that they’d been able to include her champagne punch as a beverage choice. Because her back was turned, enraptured with the refreshments, she did not catch sight of her five rescuers forming a circle for private discussion.

“We all now know that Scarlett has made contact with Marilyn Enright this evening and she knows of their connection. I suppose it was only fair seeing as how Scarlett knows about her son’s part in the protection of the house, but I think it best that we stick to the plan of concealing any further details about her future at this time,” Dylan suggested. “Later, we may decide differently, but at this point, I don’t know how she’s going to react to anything further than knowing of the existence of her great-great granddaughter. I don’t plan on specifying anything in my speech and neither does Jennifer, but Marilyn Enright will probably speak much more personally about the family. I think it best that we distract Scarlett from that portion of the program.”

James, Peggy, Sadie, and Jennifer all nodded in concurrence, though without enthusiasm.

“Now that we have the DNA evidence, Car said she’s comfortable informing one of her trusted physicist colleagues about our situation without the veil of general interest; he might be able to help Scarlett. If there still is a chance of Scarlett returning home, I feel it would be wrong to tell her the tale of her life before it has truly been written.”

Dylan then pulled Sadie aside, putting his arm around her shoulders, and said with a barely concealed grin, “I think I’ll leave the task of distraction for Peggy to carry out. I’m sure you were itching to take it on, my little weasel.”

“Oh, Dylan. You _really_ do know how to get on my good side,” Sadie teased. “Yes, I’ll gladly bequeath that role to Peggy. She’s got a way about her that I’ll never even dream of having. Scarlett’s all hers.”

Dylan stepped toward the podium to gather the attention of the crowd while Sadie went to direct the musicians to cease their playing at the conclusion of the current song.

“Oh, look! He’s going to speak,” Scarlett announced to Carolyn before taking a bite of a small quiche, thankful that the food was catching up to the excess of wine in her stomach.

“Greetings! And welcome to the grand opening of the Atlanta Irish Institute.”

Scarlett beamed as the crowd broke into applause.

“If we haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Dylan Connolly and I am the director of this fledgling organization. It seems strange being up here alone because this undertaking was a group effort and there are so many of you out there that I need to recognize for your dedicated work. First and foremost, I must acknowledge our partner, the Atlanta History Center. Your support and assistance have been invaluable.”

Dylan nodded his head in recognition to his History Center counterpart who was in attendance, signaling a desire for applause.

“Later we’ll hear from one of our greatest champions. She’s the head of our board of directors as well as one of our many links to Ireland and the O’Haras. Please provide some early recognition for Marilyn Enright.”

Scarlett carelessly set her empty plate and glass on the bench behind her in order to clap her hands with pride. No, Wade wasn’t the only one to thank for the preservation of her memory; his love and honor filtered down through subsequent generations.

“I want to acknowledge our Board of Directors, the staff members I’m privileged to work with on a daily basis, and our dedicated volunteers. Thank you all for your enthusiasm and expertise.”

The crowd provided more applause.

“I hope you all had the opportunity to take a house tour tonight with one of our excellent guides. James Barrows, Sadie Grier, and Jennifer Nolan are some of our regulars, but I would like to give special notice to a fourth guide. She was our champion of the evening, the one who took on the role of Scarlett Butler: Ms. Kate Harvey.”

Immediately there was more applause, especially from those that had been on one of Scarlett’s tours.

“It’s been a true pleasure having Scarlett’s spirit here with us tonight,” Dylan expressed, sharing a warm smile with the woman herself. “Gerald O’Hara and his daughter, Katie Scarlett O’Hara, are the reason we’re all here this evening. They were proud and successful Irish Americans who claimed their place in this raw, new world. Because of their hard work and dedication to building a life here in Georgia, new generations of Irish Americans will have the chance to explore and experience their culture and learn about their Irish ancestry. Because of Scarlett O’Hara, her son, Wade Hamilton, and their generous family, we have a place to call home.”

Pride surged through Scarlett’s veins.

“I want to thank each and every one of you here tonight. If it weren’t for your vision, support, and knowledge, we would not have arrived at this successful destination. Special thanks go out to the family of Scarlett O’Hara. Your generosity to this institution is unparalleled. We hope tonight is not your last visit to the Atlanta Irish Institute, but the first of many. We all have a stake in what has been created and must nurture it. Please keep in touch. Volunteer. Every one of us in this room has something to contribute. Speaking for our Board, our staff, and our volunteers, we hope to do you proud,” Dylan concluded humbly before the crowd reacted with thunderous applause. Scarlett locked eyes with him and nodded in thanks.

As Dylan began to introduce Jennifer Nolan to the crowd for her brief statement about upcoming programs that included sessions on William Butler Yeats and Seamus Heaney, Sean Daley interrupted Scarlett’s jubilation.

“Hey, Kate.”

“Oh, Sean! How are you and Jen getting along?” Scarlett whispered.

“Good…it’s maybe a little awkward–”

“Thank you again for doing this for me.”

“It’s no trouble…but I had been hoping to see a bit more of you this evening,” he said, obviously not trying to hide his true reason for attending this event.

“Well, the evening’s not over yet,” Scarlett replied with an unconsciously flirtatious smile. “Have you fooled Greg Atwood, do you think?”

“He approached us a short time ago. Seemed like a friendly man. Looked a little heartbroken to see me here at the party.”

“Oh, poor man,” Scarlett commented genuinely. “It’s too bad Jen isn’t fond of him. He seems like he’d be a good match for any woman.”

“Does he interest you?” Sean asked curiously.

“Well… He is quite established…though he does seem a little dull…” Scarlett concluded, which encouraged a smile onto Sean’s lips.

“You’re stunning tonight, Kate. I didn’t know you were such a good actress. Your tour was very entertaining.”

“Why, thank you Sean. I do believe this has been my favorite role to date. It fits me like a glove,” she commented, revealing her appealing dimples.

Sean looked like he would nearly melt as his eyes took in her healthy figure and how the curves fit enticingly into her glittering bodice.

Scarlett swallowed with difficulty as she grew warm at Sean’s concentrated attention and she was made nervous by a disapproving look from Sadie who had been camped out near the musicians. Was Sadie jealous of her? Did she want Sean for herself? That _would_ be shocking! To hopefully interrupt Sean’s desire–while not completely unwelcome–Scarlett decided to bring up Sadie’s boyfriend who was out of town again.

“It’s a shame that Matt wasn’t able to be here for the celebration tonight.”

“Well, when you have an opportunity to record at Muscle Shoals, you take it.”

“I forget. Is that in Alabama?” Scarlett asked distractedly, noting that Jennifer was near to concluding her comments to the crowd.

“Kate,” Peggy whispered, cutting off Sean’s answer. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she directed to Sean. “Can I have a word with you…just over here?”

“Oh, but, isn’t my…I mean, Marilyn Enright to speak now? I don’t want to miss her remarks.”

“Just for a minute,” Peggy encouraged, taking Scarlett’s arm and lightly pulling her away from the room. In the silence of the cool hallway, Peggy requested, “I could use your help. It won’t take long, I promise. I need you to go downstairs and pick up the guestbook. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Well, I think…yes, but–” Scarlett said, craning her neck in an attempt to view the podium through the doorway.

“Jim is sitting at the entrance with it right now, but I’d prefer to have it up here. That way I can pick through the crowd and make sure we have everyone’s signatures before they depart.”

What horrible timing Peggy had! Why hadn’t they thought of this earlier? Poor Jim–Peggy’s husband–was volunteering to keep watch on the front door and admit any latecomers, so he was unable to join in any of the festivities. Maybe if she made a run downstairs, Scarlett would request that he lock the doors and join the party for the rest of the evening.

“If you miss anything important, I’ll be sure to fill you in,” Peggy promised.

“All right,” Scarlett sulked, wondering why she was the one who had to trudge the steep stairs when anyone else could have done the same. But she refused to be contrary with Peggy, who had been like a dear mother to her in the last few months.

“Thank you,” Peggy said as she squeezed Scarlett with a hug.

Peggy smiled as she watched the costumed figure float down the stairs with timeless grace and hoped her husband was in one of his rare talkative moods when Scarlett reached him.

Once she cleared the first flight of stairs, Scarlett paused, looking down the hall to the bedrooms, the gaslight casting such fantastic shadows on the walls as the sun was just beginning to set. Reminding herself of her hurry, she grasped the banister to steady her wine-influenced balance and continued her descent, her skirt rustling with a familiar sound. When she reached the bottom of the flight, she caught sight of Jim Byrne deeply involved with a crossword puzzle.

“Why, hello, Kate. My, you look wonderful! Have I already told you that today?”

“Yes,” Scarlett giggled.

“What can I do for you?” asked the robust gentleman.

“Peggy sent me to collect the guestbook. She would like to gather any remaining signatures upstairs. Have there been any late arrivals?”

“Not a one. Everyone seems to have turned up on time.”

“Well, then, why don’t you lock up? You have the keys, don’t you?”

Jim shook his head.

“Oh,” Scarlett sighed, biting her lip in thought. “I was hoping you had. It must be terribly lonely down here. I was going to suggest that you lock up and join us in the ballroom. But now, I see that you’re stuck down here. Why didn’t I bring you a plate of food?” she asked herself.

“I’ve already eaten and I have my pen and my crosswords. I’m perfectly content to stay down here,” Jim replied in all honesty. He placed the marker in the guestbook and closed it, handing it to Scarlett with the silver pen resting on top. “If anyone can get one hundred percent of the autographs up there, it’s my Peggy,” he decided with a smile. “Have I missed any moments of excitement?”

“Everything has been exciting!” Scarlett decided. “Though maybe more for me than for anyone else in attendance. That reminds me, Marilyn Enright is speaking now. I very much would like to hear her comments. If I don’t rush, I’ll miss them all,” Scarlett pivoted to return to the staircase. “Thank you, Jim. I hope to see you later for dessert. Enjoy your puzzle,” she called from over her shoulder.

Grasping her skirt while attempting to hold onto the book and pen was a tricky task as Scarlett was feeling the effects of the alcohol spreading throughout her limbs. If only she had a free hand, she could steady herself with the banister. She would take two steps in quick succession, and then slow her pace to make sure she was gaining the proper footing. What a nuisance a long skirt was! She could barely make out what step she was approaching as the fabric obscured her view. How did she take these steps with such ease earlier during the tours? Now it seemed a treacherous undertaking. She turned her head, looking down toward the entrance, wondering if she shouldn’t have asked for Jim’s assistance, but decided she had made it too far now to request help; she was nearly at the top of the first flight. For a brief moment, she stood mesmerized by the dancing light playing amongst the crystals of the chandelier.

“Beautiful,” Scarlett exhaled, feeling utter peace in that moment.

But remembering her hurry, she turned to continue her ascent.

She lifted her right foot, not realizing that much of her underskirt had gotten caught under her left foot, leaving little leeway for the opposite to move. Her right foot missed the step and because of her instability she tripped, her body flung forward, the palms of her hands striking the landing hard as the guestbook and pen flew straight ahead and under the narrow table against the back wall.

Scarlett grimaced when she put pressure on her knees and knew immediately that she had bruised them against the hard steps. Those blue ice packs in Dylan and Carolyn’s freezer were coming in handy for her on a weekly basis. Not one to take a pause for pain, Scarlett gathered the fabric away from her legs and stepped onto the landing, grumbling to herself that this incident was slowing her down even more. Crouching, she eyed the underside of the table, wondering why she was having difficulty spotting the guestbook, let alone the silver pen. Gingerly lowering herself she took to hands and knees to propel her head further under the table.

“Where the devil did you go?” Scarlett asked in frustration, her small bustle pointing straight up in the air.

“Miss Scarlett?”

“What is it Pork?” she asked, pulling her head out from under the table.

“What you lookin’ for Miss Scarlett?”

“The guestbook. Oh, Pork, can you search for it? I’m having a terrible time and I’ll be lucky if I even catch the end of Mrs. Enright’s speech.”       

“Speech, Miss Scarlett?” he asked confused.

“Yes, at the party in the ballroom,” Scarlett answered brusquely, taking up her skirts in her hand. “Why are there roses here?” Scarlett questioned, immediately noticing the fragrant pale pink flowers, recently opened to perfection. “There were tiger lilies on this table only a moment ago.”

“You asked for roses, Miss Scarlett.”

“No, I–” Scarlett began to contradict. “Oh, I don’t have time to bother about flowers. Bring up the book if you can find it!” she yelled as she made her way to the second flight of stairs.

When Scarlett reached the summit of the house, there was an eerie silence that made her skin grow cold. Why was there no rumble of voices now as Scarlett stood outside the ballroom? Was the speech finished? Even so, surely she should hear the hum of ensuing conversation and the sound of the familiar tunes she had chosen for the chamber group to perform.

“I wonder what Peggy will say when I tell her I lost the guestbook?” Scarlett wondered. “How on earth did I lose it?” she asked as she entered the chilly ballroom, then gasped at the sight.

The room was completely still, still _and_ dark,with not a person in sight, not a light glowing, electric or otherwise. A cool breeze was blowing throughout the room, a result of several of the large windows being opened wide. Scarlett ran to the alcove where some attendees in need of rest had been sitting earlier. Empty! She looked to the wall where tables had been set up with the food and drinks, but the tables had been cleared away; and she had been so looking forward to a lemon petit four! Where were the decorations that had been painstakingly recreated for this event? Certainly they couldn’t have taken them down yet. Scarlett walked to the corner she had shared with Carolyn, Olivia, and Aidan, and they were not to be found. Hadn’t she been speaking with Sean Daley right here only a few minutes ago?

A thought came to her with alarm! Had she just had a conversation with Pork?

Scarlett sat for a moment right where she had left her gloves, plate, and wine glass–now also missing–and released the strings of her reticule from her wrist, setting the rattling bag next to her. Had someone dropped something dangerous into her wine; something Carolyn had warned her about just under a month ago. It was the only explanation to the hallucinations she was having. Perhaps this was a drug-induced dream? A nightmare.

Scarlett stood and made her way to the corner where Dylan, Sadie, and Marilyn Enright had been gathered when Peggy had requested her assistance. As she intensely gazed at the empty corner before her, Scarlett heard faint footsteps on the wooden stairs and froze in place as if whoever it was would not be able to see her if she didn’t move. Sadly, her shimmering dress, the skirt rustling in the breeze, was not good camouflage. Fear gripped her. What was happening?

“Pork told me I would find you here…when I caught him foolishly searching for some imaginary book that you had supposedly lost under a table. He said you claimed there was a party or speech, or something of the sort, taking place up here. I’m having difficulty finding evidence of any of it.”

The moment the man began to speak, Scarlett’s spine straightened, lifting her to a height she had never possessed before and her body shivered as if she’d been standing in the middle of a blizzard for hours. It couldn’t be. It can’t be! She was terrified to turn and face the source of that voice, fearful that it was only her imagination, only a dream.

“Scarlett?”

There! He said her name. He said her name! She had to turn. She had to see him with her own eyes–though it wasn’t necessary. She could feel him.

“R– Rhett?” she asked with a crack in her voice, unable to turn her shaking body just yet.

“What is it, Scarlett?”

She had to turn. She had to see.

 

            *              *              *

 

“Jim!” Peggy called when she was halfway down the entrance stairs. “Are you talking the ears off that poor girl?” He looked in her direction and remained silent. “Where is our Scarlett Butler?” she asked in surprise once she realized Jim was alone in the hall. “She’s been gone for nearly twenty minutes. Did she run off to the restroom?”

“Kate?” Jim asked. “She was down here and picked up the guestbook for you. She was in a hurry and made her way back upstairs right after taking it. Maybe you missed her in the crowd?”

“She came back upstairs?” Peggy asked for clarification.

“She was in a hurry, saying something about needing to hear Mrs. Enright’s speech. Kate headed straight up.”

“You’re certain she went up these steps?” Peggy asked once more, wondering if her husband had been so engrossed in his crossword puzzle that he had missed Scarlett slipping off somewhere on the main floor or to the public restroom in the other building.

“My eyes work fine, Peg,” Jim replied. “Yes, I saw her rise upon those very stairs,” he said in a teasing manner. “She has on a yellowish-green dress, correct? Well, I watched the train of it dragging behind her for most of the flight. It was about fifteen minutes ago. She’s not down here.”

“Hmm?” Peggy thought skeptically. “Well, I guess I’ll have to locate her up there, then,” she said, turning away from her husband and climbing the stairs, following in Scarlett’s supposed footsteps. When she reached the landing, she noticed a gleaming silver pen lying on the hardwood floor that nearly ended up under her foot. Bending over, she seized the pen, only to see the guestbook nestled under the small table. A nervous sensation came over Peggy. Why were the objects that Scarlett had collected just thrown on the floor like this?

Deciding to take a chance that Scarlett had returned to her bedroom, Peggy searched there first, but had no luck. The rest of the floor did not produce the mistress of the house either, though every nook and cranny was searched. Climbing back up to the ballroom, book and pen in hand, Peggy sought out James.

“Have you seen Scarlett since I left?” she asked him with grave concern.

“No,” James answered, shaking his head, clearly puzzled by Peggy’s demeanor. He looked about the room, his height giving him an advantage. “She stands out like a bird from the Amazon tonight…and yet, I don’t see her.”

“Jim said he saw her climb the stairs. I searched the second floor, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.”            

“I’ll see if I can round up Jennifer, Sadie, and Carolyn to help us search,” James offered. “You go downstairs and see if Jim was somehow mistaken. Maybe she never came up. She could be on the grounds or out on the veranda, possibly.”

“Then, why was this on the landing?” she asked, holding out the guestbook and pen to him. “She had to have brought these up at least that far.”

“It’s very strange,” James commented quietly.

After the small group had searched the grounds and house several times over, including the roof and the carriage house, the crowd had greatly diminished, leaving only a few stragglers, including Marilyn Enright, who insisted on speaking with ‘Kate Harvey’ again. Dylan had to make up a story that ‘Kate’ was not feeling well and had left earlier. He hoped that Mrs. Enright would soon forget about her great-great grandmother, but because of her personality, he knew that would not be the case. And Jennifer had to bid adieu to Sean Daley, passing off the same story to him about Scarlett’s condition, as he was hesitant to leave without seeing ‘Kate’ again.

Those in Scarlett’s inner circle gathered around Jim Byrne after the remaining guests cleared out of the house.

“What did you discuss?” Peggy asked. “Tell us everything that occurred.”

“It wasn’t much. Kate seemed very excited about how the evening was going, so I can’t see her wanting to leave. She was in a hurry to get back to the ballroom. She felt bad for me not being able to join in the activities. She’d wanted me to lock up and join you all in the ballroom, but not having the chance, she said she at least hoped to see me upstairs for dessert, later. Then she rushed off for the stairs.” Dropping his head down in thought, he recalled something he hadn’t conveyed to Peggy earlier. “I did hear something that caused me to get up from my post.”

“What was it?” Carolyn asked, holding a sleeping Aidan in her tired arms.

“It was a thud. Like something was thrown against the wall.”

“Like this book,” Peggy determined.

“Could have been. I walked over there and looked up the stairs–where the noise came from–thinking Kate might still be at the top of the flight and needed help, but I didn’t see anything. And so I thought it must have been my imagination. You know how things can get when you’re in an old house and you start thinking about the spirits that still might be haunting the place. Kate wasn’t there. I assumed she was already on her way to the ballroom.”

“Jim, would you mind watching the children for a minute or two,” Carolyn asked.

“It would be no trouble at all,” Jim said, reaching his hands out for Aidan and insisting that Olivia come sit next to him and help him with his crossword puzzle.

Carolyn asked the group to gather in the brightly lit reception room for a conference, hoping to avoid another question from Olivia about Scarlett’s whereabouts. They trailed in one after the other before Dylan closed the door behind them. He looked to their faces, noting varying degrees of shock and concern. Sadie slowly swayed her body, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, meditating on the events of the last few hours, while Jennifer stood rooted like a majestic redwood, seeming almost afraid to breathe. James rested his chin on his closed fist, giving his unique imitation of _The Thinker_ and Peggy stood, hands folded and hanging low, as if reciting a silent prayer.It was the scene of a hospital waiting room in which none of them were yet sure if their friend was to survive.

“She can’t have left the house,” Peggy stated, breaking the deathly silence in the room. “Jim would have seen her. This is the only place she could be.”

“Unless she did have ghostly powers and could vanish on command,” Dylan theorized.

“We haven’t observed that…ever,” Carolyn said. “I’ve been with her more than any of you, and she’s as solid as you or I. Could a ghost suffer a miscarriage? Could a ghost provide a result to a DNA test?”

“What happened to her?” Jennifer asked shakily. “She couldn’t have just vanished.”

“Did we ever think she could just appear?” Dylan asked, raising his pale brows. “That morning, almost two months ago, now…did you ever think we’d come face-to-face with her?”

Jennifer shook her head, appearing as if tears were soon to begin flowing.

“Do you see the common thread between her appearance and disappearance?” Carolyn asked the group, an answer already in her mind.

“The stairs,” Sadie spoke for the first time after no one else provided an answer.

Carolyn nodded.

“I’ve always suspected a wormhole, and if that’s the case…” Carolyn began, unable to finish the thought as her throat constricted.

“She may be back where she belongs,” Peggy assisted.

A pale Jennifer made a step in the direction of the door.

“Did you think of somewhere she might be?” James asked quickly.

Jennifer somberly shook her head, pressing her hands against the waist of her belted green dress as if she were nauseous.

“The papers. We have lots of records. I think I ought to see if anything in her history has changed. What we don’t have here, I can look up in the public archives tomorrow,” she decided, knowing if she could find evidence that Scarlett’s life remained unchanged–or had even improved–she would be able to sleep better tonight. Before stepping out into the hall, Jennifer wiped her tears away and composed her face, knowing not to upset Olivia Connolly with any grave emotions.

Dylan wrapped his arm around Carolyn as he sensed her distress, and she turned to hold herself to him tightly as the heavy tears came.

“God, I hope she’s OK,” Carolyn cried into his chest as he rubbed her back. Peggy, too, stepped over to comfort her, touching her hand to Carolyn’s shoulder.

“If anyone hears anything tonight, we need to contact each other,” James suggested. “I’ll speak with Vanessa tomorrow and let her know of the situation. If Scarlett happens to remain in the present, we’re going to need all the help we can get to find her.”

“I suppose I should let Jim in on our secret before he begins to question his sanity. I’ll clue him in on our drive home,” Peggy said, receiving nods of approval from Dylan and James. “I’ll check on the little ones,” she offered, rubbing Carolyn’s bare arm.

James held the door open for Peggy and joined she, Jim, and the children in the entrance hall, closing the door behind him.

Dylan blindly stared into the room, over Carolyn’s head, imagining how his daughter would take the news. What should he tell Olivia? He had prepared her for this moment, but he knew Carolyn wouldn’t be the only person in his family that he’d be consoling in the coming days. Scarlett had left them as swiftly as she had arrived, but now she carried a portion of their hearts with her.

How did Katie Scarlett O’Hara get into their hearts? If he had given it thought, Dylan would have realized that she had been in his heart from the day he’d learned about her from Marilyn Enright. Such a strong, independent, and spirited woman could never be forgotten when her loved ones felt compelled to share her life with others. Despite her moments of sadness and depression, she had recently been a gleaming light in the Connolly household. Scarlett had just gone through one of the worst times of her life, and yet this evening, she was more alive than any of them could have hoped to be if they had faced such a tragedy. No wonder they all admired her so. She was much more than a survivor. In the wake of devastation, Scarlett was able to thrive.

Finally Dylan focused his eyes on Sadie, who was seated on the plush burgundy bench in the alcove, shoulders hunched over, elbows on knees, staring down blindly at the carpet and rubbing her locket like a worry stone. As if she sensed his attention, she lifted her eyes and Dylan surprisingly found tears glittering in them. It had been a difficult journey, but he knew Sadie had finally accepted Scarlett’s identity. Though, had it come too late for her to make peace with the fact that she hadn’t had enough time to fully turn a new page?

Sadie expressed to Dylan and Carolyn a bittersweet smile and stated with a slight quiver in her voice, “My only hope…is that she’s finally found her way back home.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to recap (since I post so infrequently), Scarlett has just now discovered herself in a different place. Neither the grand opening party nor her new friends were anywhere to be found...

**Part Two**

**Chapter 13**

 

She had to turn.

Now!

Scarlett gasped at the sight of Rhett, the barely audible sound causing him hold his position across the room. She could immediately sense the fight in her husband, wanting to back away lest he distress her more by being too near, but feeling the need to rush to her and rescue her from whatever pain and fear she was suffering. He remained immobile, as did she, chills prickling her entire body, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be real. Was this Rhett’s spirit? Or could it be possible that…? No. It couldn’t be. She had tried everything she could think of to return home, with no success. She had been told that it would be impossible to cross the threshold between the present and the past. Surely her mind was playing tricks.

What had the bartender placed in her wine glass to disorient her so? Whatever it was must be the root of her hallucinations. Of course she was now in her bed at Carolyn and Dylan’s house, dreaming away the poisonous substance. How could she be anywhere else? Neither one of them would have allowed anything to happen to her. They would have protected her and brought her home to recover. No doubt she would face another throbbing headache in the morning.

But what a vivid dream! The atmosphere had grown heavy in the space that had been all warmth and happiness at the gathering. The walls of the room seemed to have grown darker and drawn in tighter, giving Scarlett a frightening sense of claustrophobia. As her ears strained to break through the alarming silence she thought she heard the bubbly voice of Bonnie filtering up from somewhere below.

“Oh, Bonnie, if only you were real,” thought Scarlett, her eyes falling to Rhett’s clenched fists, noting his helpless struggle. No, a spirit being would certainly not be able to aid her now.

“Scarlett? Are you ill?” Rhett asked with quiet unease.

He spoke again! Should she answer him? Yes, she had to know why he was present in her dream or wherever her consciousness had been madly flung. 

“I don’t know,” Scarlett answered honestly, surprised at the steadiness in her voice. “Why are you here?” she asked directly.

Rhett opened his mouth, but was unable to state an answer immediately. He then chuckled to himself, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness.

“My greatest apologies for causing you fright, as I have obviously done,” he commented lightly in a subtle bow, possibly hopeful that Scarlett had been joking–though when did she ever joke? “Have you dressed for the occasion?” Rhett commented on her unusual formal attire. “I didn’t think you were so eager to celebrate the sale.”

_Sale? What sale?_ Scarlett wondered briefly.

“Come,” Rhett requested, reaching his hand out. “We’re going to be late–”

“Where has everyone gone?” Scarlett asked, interrupting Rhett’s last statement.

Clearly sensing that Scarlett was not in a joking mood, Rhett asked more seriously, “Gone? Scarlett, I don’t understand.”

“Yes, this room was full only a short time–” Scarlett stopped speaking, noting the increasing concern on Rhett’s face. It was clear to her that he believed that she’d lost her wits.

Scarlett shook her head as if to reset her brain, thinking it might be true. Steadying herself, she bravely stared into Rhett’s dark eyes and attempted to practice calming breaths. Why could she feel his presence so strongly? It was the same powerful feeling she had anytime they were in a room together. It had weakened lately, but it was still there, always hanging between them. This connection brought an additional surge of tension and electricity that made her body experience every sensation much more acutely. She could hear his anxious breaths and his slow, echoing footsteps as he began to courageously approach her across the wood floor. Instantly, there was no question in her mind. This couldn’t be a dream.

“Are you here or am I there?” Scarlett asked excitedly in riddle. Had she traveled to the past or had Rhett come to her in the present? It had to be one or the other. There was no doubt they now occupied the same space, the same time. Rhett’s steps began to quicken and Scarlett looked to the western set of windows. She turned and escaped Rhett’s path in order to answer the mystery for herself. There could be no doubt. When Scarlett reached the bench seats, she lifted herself up on her bruised knees to propel herself closer to the open window and leaned forward to view the scene with the remaining light just beyond the horizon.

The horizon! She could now see the horizon from this window! There wasn’t a fifteen-story hotel directly blocking her view anymore! Scarlett leaned out further in order to catch a better angle of the street, but before she could take sight of the carriage she heard rolling down Peachtree Street or note the lamp lighter beginning his route to illuminate their section of the road, Rhett grabbed her around the waist, fighting to pull her away from the window as her hand had gripped the wooden frame tightly.

Scarlett screamed in surprise and released her hand.

“Oh, God, Scarlett! What’s happened?” Rhett’s voice was sick with panic as he pulled her down to him. “What’s happened to you?”

Rhett locked her in the cage of his arms, his face instantly pale and fearful as he stared into her eyes, searching for an answer to her suicidal behavior. The look reminded Scarlett of something–something that should not have been in her memory. Yes, she had seen it when she was lying at the bottom of the stairs after her accident two months ago. But, Rhett hadn’t been there. That moment had never occurred. It had been James, Dylan, Peggy, Jennifer, and Sadie with her at that time. Scarlett slammed her eyes shut, terrified of the sight as she was brought back to that horrible morning. But immediately all of that was forgotten when Scarlett noted the firm arms around her. Her hands were pressed against his chest and her fingers grazed the fabric of the linen coat. She could feel him. He was real. Nothing else mattered.

Her eyes opened wide and she steadily circled her arms around Rhett’s neck, drawing him down to her as she pressed her lips into the collar of his shirt. Then she cried; her body heaving and releasing the tension she had unknowingly held these last two months. She cried with relief. She cried in celebration. She was home. He was here.

“Oh, God. Scarlett,” Rhett whispered with relief as his hand cradled her head of curls, repeating over and over, “I’m so sorry. You’re safe…you’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

Scarlett began to speak swiftly in between sobs, but Rhett seemingly was unable to decipher most of the mumbled statements that she released into his neck and shoulder. She recounted the tale of his disappearance and how she had soon discovered that she was the one who had really vanished. She rambled on about her rescuers and how she thought she’d never return home, her words all flooding together. If he indeed had been able to hear her clearly, he most certainly would have determined that all the tales were part of an elaborate nightmare. The only phrase that did produce a distinct reaction was when her voice clearly whispered, “I missed you so!” causing Rhett to tighten his grip on her even more, so much so that Scarlett thought he might squeeze her to unconsciousness.

He was so solid. She felt so secure. Scarlett took in his comforting scent and prayed he would never let her go, fearful that she would be stolen away again. Over time, her tears began to cease as her lungs fought for oxygen, but she still clung to Rhett tightly, relaxing into him as he caressed her lower back.

“I’ll send word to the Wilkeses that we won’t be joining them this evening,” Rhett announced soothingly into her hair.

“The Wilkeses?” Scarlett asked, pulling back and staring up to Rhett blankly, as if it was the first time she had heard that surname.

The concern in Rhett’s eyes only intensified, though he tried to mask it in every other way. He reluctantly released her and pressed his handkerchief into her hand. Stepping to Scarlett’s side, he placed his arm around her shoulders.

“Come, let’s get you to bed. You’ve had a long journey today. It’s no wonder you’re weary,” he softly reasoned, attempting to justify Scarlett’s actions.

Scarlett allowed Rhett to lead her to the stairs, remaining silent and thinking about her conversation with Peggy from only a short time ago near this very spot. What was real? What portion of the story had her mind created? When they approached the stairs, Scarlett was sure that Rhett could sense her muscles tighten anxiously. The last time they hovered over a precipice together, a most terrible disaster had occurred. Scarlett bravely took hold of the banister, her knuckles growing white in contrast to her freckled skin.

When they reached the second floor, Rhett called for Pork and requested that he relay a message to the Wilkeses that Scarlett was unwell and that they would need to postpone their meeting. As they neared the door to her room a sound from across the hall interrupted Scarlett’s thoughts on why they were to meet with Ashley and Melanie Wilkes this evening. She heard the voices of her children from the nursery as Prissy and Mammy were preparing Ella and Bonnie for bed.

“Oh,” Scarlett sighed. “Please,” she requested, pulling Rhett in the direction of the nursery.

“Scarlett?” he said, clearly surprised by the action. When had she ever before chosen to seek out her children when rest called? “I don’t think you should–”

“Oh, please?” Scarlett asked again, twisting out of his light grasp.

Scarlett flew through the doorway and took in the sight her three children spread about the room, now all looking back at her. How many times a day had she studied their images on the photograph next to her bed? It had not swelled her heart nearly as much as this moment had, viewing them in full animation.

First coming across Ella, who had just been dressed in her nightgown, Scarlett crouched down to take her nearly five-year-old daughter in her arms.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Scarlett whispered, holding her securely as she stroked Ella’s ginger curls. She drew back from the warmth of her daughter to view her face. Ella was alive and standing before her!

Simply returning her mother’s smile, Ella was delighted by the attention rarely bestowed on her.

“I missed you so,” Scarlett voiced, placing her palm against Ella’s downy cheek.

Not catching the mounting concern on Rhett’s face, Scarlett moved toward Wade, who had been organizing a stack of books on the table next to his bed before Scarlett appeared.

“Wade,” Scarlett sighed sweetly as if the meaning of his name was ‘I love you’. “Oh, my dear boy,” she said as she sank down next to him on his bed staring into his brown eyes, so much like Charles’. He watched nervously as faintly gray tears dripped from her beautiful eyes. Something was terribly wrong with his mother and it frightened him. He subtly drew his small body back when her arms approached him, but surrendered at her touch. Scarlett pulled him to her tenderly and rested her cheek against his head, feeling the soft curls of his hair against her skin. She finally had her son in her arms. How she wanted to thank him for his lifetime of love and devotion! “You’ll never know how much I–” Scarlett began while squeezing Wade gently, but she halted her words as she noticed Rhett move further into the room and scoop Bonnie up in his arms protectively.

Scarlett beamed at the sight of her dearest child. Her two-year-old had grown so much since she’d last seen her! She couldn’t wait to take the girl in her arms.

A gloom fell upon Wade as his mother withdrew her embrace, distracted as always by the baby of the family.

“Bonnie! Baby!” Scarlett voiced cheerfully, her green eyes brightening.

“Mother!” Bonnie replied, reaching out her little arms in Scarlett’s direction. “Pretty,” the girl commented on her mother’s appearance.

As Scarlett rose to approach her youngest, Rhett widened a path around her and stepped toward the door.

Scarlett spun around.

“Rhett?” she asked in confusion, worry washing over her glowing expression. It appeared that he didn’t want her anywhere near Bonnie. “Rhett?” Scarlett repeated, turning her attention to Prissy and Mammy, both wearing expressions of puzzlement. “Let me see her,” Scarlett demanded, again approaching him, only to have him draw further away. “Bonnie?”

“Mother,” Bonnie repeated, again reaching her hand out.

“Take her to bed,” Rhett ordered Mammy, as Bonnie wriggled down from his hold.

Mammy immediately took Bonnie’s hand and showed a brief hesitation before curtsying and stepping out into the hall.

Scarlett rushed to the door, shouting for Mammy, only to be blocked by her husband.

“Why won’t you let me see her?” Scarlett growled, futilely pushing against his set stance. “Mammy, bring her back this instant!” Scarlett ordered.

The lack of response sickened Scarlett, realizing where Mammy’s loyalties rested.

Rhett forcefully took Scarlett by the arm, forgetting the gentleness he showed her earlier.

“You’re causing a scene,” he whispered grittily, looking to the frightened children behind her.

“I don’t care!” Scarlett shouted, her eyes burning with rage. “You take her away from me again and again! And now, even in my own house, I’m not allowed to be near her?” Scarlett concluded incredulously. “She’s _my_ _daughter_ ,” Scarlett stated with strength, attempting to release herself from his grasp.

“You’re not yourself,” Rhett expressed sternly. “Once you are well and rested, you can see her.”

That was no consolation. She needed to see her now.

Rhett began to drag her across the hall to her room, triggering more tears.

“I haven’t seen her but once in five months! Why are you treating me this way?” Scarlett cried wildly, struggling against his strong grip. Rhett shoved her into her brightly lit bedroom a little too forcefully and she stumbled to the bed. Her sore rib having been aggravated, Scarlett pressed her hands against her side.

Rhett closed the door behind him, then turned to face his wife seated on the bed taking quick, shallow breaths. Scarlett observed a flash of regret in his eyes as he realized his treatment might have caused an injury.

“I don’t want Bonnie to see you like this. Do you understand? You’re frightening the children,” Rhett responded firmly, his voice having calmed with the privacy. “What have you done to your face?” he asked critically, noting the modern makeup smudged around her lips and eyes. “And your hair? When could you possibly have had the time to chop off your forelocks against my wishes?” he asked with disgust.

_There it was_ , she thought. The discovery and scolding was not nearly as satisfying as she had imagined it would be.

“And somehow you’ve misplaced your undergarments and evening dress since supper,” he said, eyeing her disdainfully, obviously having noted her lack of a corset when she had been in his arms earlier.

Scarlett stared down to her lap, ashamed, not because of her appearance, but because Rhett thought she was purposely portraying herself as a loose woman and flaunting it in front of her children.

“You are not yourself, Scarlett. My God, just moments ago you were ready to jump to your death.”

Scarlett loudly sucked in the dry air and shot up from the bed, finally realizing why Rhett had wrenched her away from the window.

“No! Oh, no!” she protested. “You’re wrong! No, I’m so happy! I could never–”

“I’m calling for Doctor Meade,” Rhett announced, striding to the door that connected his room to hers. “And if you even think of leaving this room–” Rhett paused, unwilling to finish the thought. “I’m going to send Mammy in to watch you. Don’t even think of trying to slip off,” he concluded, stepping through the door and closing it quietly behind him. Hopes of following him through to see Bonnie were dashed when she heard his door lock with finality. 

“What a _fine_ homecoming!” Scarlett thought resentfully as she collapsed to the bed weakly and rested her cheek against the coverlet. Scarlett never once dreamt of her return playing out like this. Why wasn’t anyone glad to see her? She’d been missing for nearly two months! Surely they had wondered as to her whereabouts… But, wait. No record had shown that she’d disappeared; Scarlett Butler was here all along. Could there be two of her on the premises? What an unsettling thought! Scarlett shivered and immediately pushed the idea of running into herself out of her mind.

Scarlett began tracing the stitches in her coverlet as if it was something to pass the time until the judge handed down her sentence. Eyeing the silver ring on her middle finger, she repositioned herself on her back and held her hand steadily in front of her face. She still had the Claddagh ring. She couldn’t have created the world of 2011 in her mind. This trinket was a reminder. Her experiences were real and true, no matter how distant they seemed at the moment.

“I’m perfectly sane,” Scarlett repeated to herself as a mantra. “And if Rhett and Mammy and Prissy and– All of them. If they don’t know that I’ve been gone…it seems that I won’t be able tell them what really happened. Rhett already thinks I’ve lost my senses. He’d never believe it, even if I told him the absolute truth. He’s treating me worse than Sadie Grier had, and she had much more reason to distrust me,” Scarlett decided. “He can– Well, he can go to hell,” Scarlett thought only with a trace of guilt, her anger with him swelling with each minute she had to endure being locked up in this room.

Scarlett was pushing herself up from her horizontal position, the train of her dress cascading down off the side of the bed like a waterfall, when Mammy entered her room. Scarlett smiled; she was glad to see Mammy, even if she was to be her jailer for the time being. Despite her gloomy reintroduction to 1871, she was glad to be home and not even this experience could squash her spirits. Tomorrow, things would be better; she was sure of it.

“Good evening, Mammy,” Scarlett said, surprising the woman with her charming tone. The lightness in Scarlett’s voice had not been heard in quite some time. “I presume you are not to let me out of your sight.”

“No, Miss Scarlett. I’m not.”

“You’re to protect me from myself, then? Well, you’d better take a seat. I’m not sure how long Rhett intends to have me imprisoned and kept away from my children,” Scarlett said lightly, as if all this was a farce.

Rising from the bed, Scarlett walked over to a window and looked out over the side and back yards toward Ellis Street, pleased to see that the lawn was void of any marked pavement or a brightly lit lot full of vehicles. It looked exactly like home now. Leaning her forearms on the sill, she poked her head out to take in the familiar evening sights and smells of nineteenth century Atlanta and her much more neighborly neighborhood.

“Miss Scarlett?” Mammy questioned, concerned that Scarlett was lingering near the open window a little too long.

Scarlett pulled herself out from the frame and turned, giving a smile in Mammy’s direction.

“How do you like my new dress, Mammy?”

“It’s mighty pretty, Miss Scarlett,” Mammy answered with care.

“I think so, too.”

Scarlett moved over to the full-length mirror she had been staring into earlier in the day as she had prepared for her tours, and frowned at her disheveled appearance. A few of Sadie’s tight curls had escaped the nest, dangling well beyond where they should have been contained. Her face was smeared with mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick. At this point she did resemble a mad woman, so it didn’t surprise her that Mammy held some concern over her state of mind.

“Don’t worry yourself, Mammy,” Scarlett reassured, turning her sleepy green eyes on the woman holding post at her bedroom door. “I’m sure Rhett told you that I was planning on hurting myself, but he was wrong. I was merely trying to see the front yard and street when we were upstairs. That was all. You don’t believe I would do such a thing?”

“No, Miss Scarlett. I know you wouldn’t.”

Scarlett nodded in thanks, but was still sore at Mammy for taking Rhett’s side in all of this.

Scarlett again studied her makeup in the looking glass. It had all looked very subtle and natural in 2011, but apparently it had been too much for Rhett to tolerate in 1871. Well, she couldn’t tolerate it anymore, either, muddled as it was. Scarlett stepped down into the bathing room and drew water into the basin to splash on her face, hoping to scrub away the paint that Rhett found so offensive. Taking note of Sadie’s advice, Scarlett knew shouldn’t give a damn about what Rhett wanted, but tonight she was in no mood for an argument and if she cleaned herself up, he might just allow her to kiss their daughter goodnight.

After drying her face with a plush towel, Scarlett realized that nothing she was wearing belonged to her–she supposed with the exception of her underwear, but she hadn’t even paid for that. She still had Sadie’s choker on as well as the rental costume, and she felt guilty knowing that the Atlanta Irish Institute would lose their deposit and possibly more since she had unintentionally absconded with the dress. If only there was a way to reimburse them now that she had access to her money. Contemplating a change of clothing, Scarlett decided to keep the flattering dress on until she was safe to retire for the evening. If Rhett decided that Dr. Meade was to come and examine her tonight, Rhett would have his way. Scarlett released the choker from her round neck and dropped it onto her vanity, wondering how she could possibly return it to Sadie Grier.

“It’s nice to see you, Mammy,” Scarlett said genuinely. She squeezed her arms around her childhood nurse briefly, thrilled that her family was surrounding her again. With a heavy feeling of fatigue, Scarlett kicked off her shoes and plopped herself down on her bed, taking full advantage of the fluffy pillows, and closed her eyes.

 

“Doctor Meade. Thank you for coming,” Rhett greeted in the entrance hall.

“Captain Butler,” Dr. Meade acknowledged, handing his hat and light coat over to Pork. “Scarlett is feeling ill?”

Rhett shook his head.

“It’s her mind. Her actions. She’s not herself.”

“How is she not herself?” Dr. Meade questioned, sensing a rare, urgent desperation in Rhett Butler. Everyone in town was aware of the Butlers’ marriage struggles, but the one thing Dr. Meade now knew for certain was that Rhett Butler loved Scarlett dearly. Anyone who had seen the devastation in his eyes after Scarlett’s accident would never dispute that fact. If Scarlett had died two months ago, Dr. Meade wondered how long it would have taken for Rhett to follow her down that path, a result of his grief.

“I found her in the ballroom this evening. Pork had spotted her searching under that table,” he said pointing up to the landing. “Scarlett told him she was looking for a guestbook and needed to return to the ballroom to hear a speech,” Rhett recalled helplessly.  

“And you have no idea as to what she was referring?”

Rhett shook his head, his jaw tight.

“There was no party. We were to visit the Wilkeses this evening to sign the papers. Ashley is buying Scarlett’s remaining share of the mills,” Rhett explained.

Dr. Meade’s eyebrows rose with interest.

“After supper, Scarlett had excused herself to tidy up before we were to leave, and when I sought her out, I could not find her.”

“Had she seemed like herself earlier in the day?” Dr. Meade asked.

“Yes,” Rhett nodded after a moment’s deliberation. “She, Wade, and Ella returned from Tara today,” Rhett explained, looking to the floor in thought. “Tara has always done her good. She was herself–more like herself than I had witnessed in months…all throughout supper. And now…” his voice trailed, looking as if he was going to be ill. “I’ve never seen her this way. She acts as if she hasn’t seen her children in months and I don’t think she remembers that we were to visit the Wilkeses this evening. Nothing she has said or done makes any sense.”

Rhett paused, looking as if he was unsure whether he should disclose anything further, but then chose to reveal his greatest concern.

“Doctor Meade,” he said quietly so as to not spread the conversation to any snooping servant. “She tried to throw herself from an open window this evening.”

Dr. Meade gasped. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it–Scarlett attempting to take her own life? No, it was impossible. Never would he have pegged her for that tendency. 

“Are you certain? Did you witness this?” Dr. Meade asked with obvious doubt and a wrinkled brow.

Rhett nodded.

“She saw me and then– When I drew near–” Rhett struggled with his thoughts as he ran his hand through his dark hair and looked away.

Dr. Meade was able to fill in the painful gaps for himself. Rhett believed Scarlett was driven to the mad act at the sight of him. Did this really surprise Dr. Meade? While having made no accusations, he’d had slight suspicions about what had occurred between husband and wife immediately before Scarlett’s accident. After all the gossip pulsating throughout Atlanta in the months preceding Scarlett’s fall, no one doubted that Rhett might have been driven to horrific extremes. But the story had been that she’d slipped on the waxed step and Scarlett had said nothing to contradict her husband’s statement. Dr. Meade didn’t want to believe anything more brutal, but he had observed the anguished guilt and fear in Rhett’s eyes during that time. It would give answer as to why Rhett had been unable to sit by his wife’s side during her recovery and to why Scarlett had seemingly become terrified of her husband.

“I had to pull her away to stop her from going through with it. She told me I had misinterpreted it, that she never would do such a thing, but– Do you think she could have lost her mind? Could it be because of the miscarriage?” he asked quietly, very much like a frightened boy.

After releasing a sigh, Dr. Meade showed Rhett a rare moment of kindness by placing his hand against Rhett’s hard shoulder as a means of comfort.

“Melancholia has been known to touch women who have gone through such heartbreaks. I’ll speak with her and see what can be done,” he offered with a nod, stepping past Rhett to the staircase. Rhett followed close behind.

There was a knock on Scarlett’s door and Mammy rose to answer it while Scarlett shifted her body slightly, adjusting the pillow she held in her arms. She pressed her face into the feather-filled mass, her eyes remaining closed.

“Mammy?” Rhett spoke, looking to read her assessment of Scarlett’s condition.

“She’s restin’,” was her clipped reply.

“Scarlett,” Rhett started hesitantly, gazing at her prostrate figure, appearing as if she was under a blanket of shimmering moss.

She groaned into the pillow.

“Scarlett, Doctor Meade is here,” he said more directly, smoothing his dark hair back into place.

“Good evening, Scarlett,” Dr. Meade said in greeting as he stepped into the room.

“Doctor Meade,” Scarlett stated quietly, eyes remaining closed. Then she cracked them open and saw the man standing at the foot of the bed. “Oh, Doctor Meade!” she exclaimed, her voice rising steadily as she sat upright. “Doctor Meade. It’s so nice to see you,” Scarlett concluded her greeting with a rare genuineness. Each new visitor from her past solidified the fact that she had been returned to 1871.

“Well, it’s nice to see you as well, Scarlett. You seem to be in good spirits,” Dr. Meade commented, looking to Rhett with doubt and wondering if he had exaggerated his concerns. “I hear you and the children have just returned from Tara?”

Tara? She had been at Tara? For how long? And which children were with her? Not Bonnie, Scarlett decided with absolute certainty. According to Rhett, Wade and Ella were _her_ children and Bonnie was _his_. Scarlett briefly grimaced at the thought of her husband’s absurd perspective.

Oh, why hadn’t she asked Mammy any questions in advance? How could she answer anything about the past two months? She was doomed.

“You must have spent a great deal of time outdoors. You’re looking very healthy, very much refreshed,” Dr. Meade determined from Scarlett’s lively eyes and darkened skin.

“Oh, yes,” Scarlett began with a nod. “Lots of walking.”

Lots of walking? Walking? What else could she say? Her mind was drawing blanks.

“And your sister and her family are well.”

“Oh, yes,” Scarlett answered with another nod, hoping the statement was true.

“Atlanta can’t compete with Tara, I suppose, but I’m sure you’re glad to be home,” Dr. Meade said in an attempt to etch out Scarlett’s emotional state at being in this house.

“Oh, so glad! I can’t express how much I’ve longed to return home,” Scarlett answered, connecting with Rhett’s eyes at the end of her statement to make certain that he heard the honest truth. She refused to expose one ounce of sadness in front of him after what he believed her capable of doing.

Dr. Meade turned his attention to Rhett and then back to Scarlett.

“I’m sure you’re aware that this isn’t a social call,” the doctor announced, his demeanor turning serious.

“I know that it’s not,” Scarlett answered quietly, casting her eyes downward.

“You understand why I’m here?”

“Yes,” Scarlett answered, shooting a glare at Rhett.

“Would you mind if we visited for a few minutes?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Captain Butler. Mammy. I’d like to speak with Scarlett alone,” Dr. Meade directed.

He was answered with a nod from both, leaving Rhett to pace the hall outside of Scarlett’s closed door and quiz Mammy about Scarlett’s behavior since he last left her.

Scarlett swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, arranging her skirts. She stepped toward the seating area near the fireplace. Dr. Meade followed, thinking to himself that Scarlett’s appearance tonight was like an elegant fairy princess, a present day Titania.

After joining her on the small settee, Dr. Meade performed a quick examination of her, checking her pulse and listening to her heart and lungs. His eyes scanned her face and studied her deportment, and said, “You seem quite well, physically. Do you have any complaints that need addressing?”

Scarlett shook her head.

“No, I am well. My rib is still healing, but it’s much better than before. My care has been excellent,” she expressed, referring to Dr. Stevens, the staff at Emory University Hospital, and the Connollys, but immediately realized that she was speaking to the person who had probably provided her with medical care in this time. “I truly have no complaints.”

“Were you planning on attending a special event this evening?” he asked, referring to her gown in a roundabout way.

“I–”

What could she say? Obviously, she, Scarlett Butler, had no such gathering on her calendar today. According to Rhett, they were to have visited Melanie and Ashley; this would not have been a proper dress for that occasion. She would seem to have lost her mind if she said she’d hada party to attend, and she would seem to have lost her mind if she had decided on wearing this frock for an after-supper meeting with the Wilkeses. Oh, what to say…?

Then Scarlett thought of Dr. Jeffrey Moore, the neurologist she met with soon after her accident. Maybe she would have to play the temporary victim of amnesia again with Dr. Meade. It might be the only way to avoid the madhouse. If only it were Dr. Moore interrogating her; he was so much more handsome! Plus, he didn’t know her as well as Dr. Meade and would be less likely to see through her fabrications.

“Your husband said you were searching for a guestbook and expecting to hear a speech this evening.”

“Doctor Meade. I don’t recall everything that I’ve said tonight. I truly don’t know why I said anything about a guestbook or a speech,” she lied. “I wasn’t planning on attending an event this evening. It’s all very concerning.”

She looked down to her twisting hands in her lap, hoping to construct a scene of nervousness and uncertainty.

“I can’t really say why I chose to dress so formally. My memory has been very unclear this evening.”

“Unclear in what manner?”

“I– I can’t remember everything that’s happened recently. And you tell me of the strange things I’ve said. And none of it makes any sense. Oh, but you mustn’t tell Rhett. I don’t want him to know,” she pleaded with fretful eyes. “He mustn’t worry.”

“He’s concerned for you, Scarlett. Don’t you think he should know what’s wrong? He believes that–”

“That I tried to hurt myself?” she asked bluntly, looking to Dr. Meade with steely eyes. “No matter how difficult my life has been, I’ve never once considered…that. I’ve spent years and years trying to survive. Why would I fight so hard to live if I wanted to–” Scarlett swallowed the last word. “If you tell Rhett anything, tell him that you know for certain that I wasn’t going to harm myself. I would never do that sort of thing,” she stressed, pleased to see agreement pass over Dr. Meade’s face. “What Rhett witnessed earlier was part of my confusion. That’s why I leaned out that window tonight. I thought…”

What did she think? _Oh, make something up quick._

“I thought…that I was at Tara, but nothing seemed right about it. Somehow, I knew I was wrong. I needed to clear my head, so I looked out on Peachtree to convince myself that I was in Atlanta and not in the country. I’m sure you can guess that the views from the windows of both residences are quite different,” Scarlett explained with a charming laugh, causing Dr. Meade to smile, though his expression soon turned serious again. Scarlett followed suit.

“I– I was very upset and frightened that my mind was so unsettled, so confused. How could I not know where I was at that moment? It’s as if I’d been sleeping for months and months and then woke up and couldn’t remember a thing,” Scarlett stated, providing Dr. Meade with insight on the experience of time travel, though he would never realize it. “And so I cried,” Scarlett concluded, transforming her absolute joy into a fictitious panic.

“It must be impossible– After all, you’re so young. But, have you felt numbness? Have you felt weakness on one side of your body or the other? Have you had difficulty speaking? Did you briefly faint at any time?”

Scarlett shook her head.

“You’re certain?”

“Yes. I’ve experienced nothing like that.”

“Have you injured your head? Did something occur here tonight or at Tara this morning that you’ve forgotten to mention?”

Yes, of course, an injury! That was the answer to her predicament. Scarlett thought back to her days at Tara, trying to recall a time, anytime that she’d hit her head in some manner there, preferably more than once. It had to be believable.

“Yes, now that you mention it. I hadn’t thought much of it since it’s happened many times over the years, but…yes, I did have an accident this morning. You see, when I’m at Tara, I often like to sit at my bedroom window and look out over the lawn in the early morning. Just this morning, a large bird bounded down from the eaves overhead when I was leaning out over the sill. Well, you can imagine how the winged creature startled me! Birds have been known to attack,” Scarlett said, biting back a smile at remembering Sadie’s tale. “It frightened me so much that I jumped up and knocked the top of my head fairly hard against the raised window.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Meade sounded and nodded his head.

“Do you think that has altered my memories?” Scarlett asked innocently, knowing Mammy could back her up with a similar story. If this worked, she wouldn’t mind the doctor sharing this information with Rhett.

“Possibly. Possibly there could be some swelling, though I’m surprised that you haven’t suffered any ill effects until this evening,” Dr. Meade concluded. “How has your vision been? Have you had any dizziness?”

“No, I’m perfectly well, otherwise. I can see as I always have and do not feel as if I could lose my balance. You observed that I walked over here with ease. It’s only my memory that is confused.”

Dr. Meade nodded and then looked down as if he wanted to say something more, but was hesitant. “I would like you to be honest with me, Scarlett,” he began.

Oh, no! Did he not believe her? Scarlett felt her face grow hot.

“I believe you are telling me the truth, but I don’t want to leave here tonight with the slightest doubt. Were you afraid of seeing your husband today?”

“Rhett?” Scarlett voiced with relief at the nature of his question; Dr. Meade said he _had_ believed her. “No. I was very happy to see him. Why do you ask?”

Scarlett seemed ignorant to what he had been implying. Maybe it was the result of her confusion, but if not, maybe the scandalous assumptions about Rhett’s conduct on the day of Scarlett’s accident were groundless. Even at Scarlett’s lowest moments during her recovery, she had never shown fear at the mention or sight of Rhett Butler–only sadness.

“After hearing of your struggles this evening, I speculated that you might be suffering from melancholia, a result of your accident and the loss of your baby,” Dr. Meade explained straightforwardly.

“Depression?” Scarlett wondered out loud, her eyes growing sad at the thought of her state of mind following her miscarriage, recalling the constant tears.

“Yes, that term has begun to be used in medical texts,” Dr. Meade replied with surprise at Scarlett’s use of such new terminology.

“Yes, I was depressed for a while, I think,” she stated honestly, watching Dr. Meade nod. He must have observed this over the time he treated her after the miscarriage. “I still don’t want to think of it, but I _am_ so much better now,” she said with emphasis. “And never have I wished to…stop living.”

“And you feel safe in this home?” Dr. Meade felt compelled to ask.

“Yes, of course,” Scarlett answered, smiling at the odd question. “It’s so good to be at home again,” she said with laughing relief. “I am very happy.”

Dr. Meade studied her face for any trace of falseness or fear, but did not find it.

“Are there any other concerns you would like addressed?” he asked kindly.

“No…well, there is one thing,” she remembered, hoping Dr. Meade’s assistance would do the trick. “Rhett was very concerned over my behavior with the children. Do you think it would be safe for me to see Bonnie before I retire? Rhett’s afraid that I’ll frighten her, but…I only want to kiss her goodnight.”

Dr. Meade gave her a rare look of sympathy. In Rhett’s concern for his daughter, he had apparently kept her mother from her. Rhett Butler’s action may have been justified at one time, but Dr. Meade could see no danger posed by this petite woman sitting before him and staring at him with hopeful eyes.

“Will you speak with him?” Scarlett asked. “You can even tell him about the bump to my head. I do hope that explains why I’ve had trouble tonight. This should pass, should it not?”

“I expect it will, but I would like you to be watched throughout the night. I don’t expect the worst, but I don’t need to tell you what dangers you might face in the next few hours having seen so many soldiers never wake up after seeming fine only a short time before.”

Scarlett nodded, masking the relief that a hemorrhaging brain was not to be the end of her; a false injury would not cause her harm.

“Yes, I understand,” Scarlett said, adding false nervousness to her voice for effect.

“I must be contacted immediately if you are having difficulties. At the moment, your mind seems very clear. If you are still unwell in a day or so, consult with me again,” Dr. Meade ordered as he rose from the settee. “I’ll speak with Captain Butler. I’m sure you’ll sleep better if you can wish your daughter a good night.”

Scarlett watched him exit the room, catching sight of Rhett before the door closed behind Dr. Meade. She leaned her back into the cushion with pleasure, thinking she gave another celebrated performance. If anyone ever needed her to play the role of an amnesiac on or off the stage, she would not hesitate at taking the part.

“I think that did the trick,” she said to herself while reaching for the bell pull next to the bed. She stepped to her vanity and sat herself on the stool, weaving her fingers through her hair in search of the seemingly hundreds of bobby pins holding the curls in place.

“Come in,” Scarlett called at the sound of a knock on her door.

“Evenin’, Miss Scarlett,” Prissy said as she bobbed into the room.

“Come help me with my hair,” Scarlett requested, having already removed about half of the pins while she had waited for her maid.

“Yes, Miss Scarlett.”

As Scarlett silently watched Prissy fumbling with the unfamiliar pins, she revisited the idea of finding a new lady’s maid. She wouldn’t have minded a more competent servant to care for her personal needs, but concluded that it was much more economical to keep things this way. Her children were not babies anymore and they certainly didn’t need Prissy’s constant care. Why spend good money on a new woman when Prissy had plenty of time to spare? Sure, Rhett could afford it and it would make her look like a very fine lady to have one servant solely dedicated to her children and one solely dedicated to her needs, but it just didn’t seem practical.    

“Ow,” Scarlett grumbled when Prissy somehow tangled a small section of her hair into one of the last pins and was struggling to get it out.

“Sorry, Miss Scarlett,” Prissy replied, continuing to eye Scarlett’s hair with puzzlement. The maid had certainly not dressed it in this style for her mistress and she wondered who had.

“Here,” Scarlett said, swatting Prissy’s tugging hand away, “let me do it. Just undo the top buttons on my dress and leave me be. I’ll take care of the rest on my own.”

“Yes, Miss Scarlett.”

Prissy must have gone one button too far because she pulled her hands away, but continued to stare down at Scarlett’s back.

The bra. She must have seen the bra, Scarlett decided, knowing that her unusual underclothing would now be a bit of gossip spread around town.

“That will be all,” Scarlett said calmly, not wanting to acknowledge the strange piece of feminine attire. “Goodnight, Prissy.”

“’Night, Miss Scarlett.”

Scarlett rose from the stool and locked the door behind Prissy, then twisted the locks of her other two doors so she could undress without disturbance.

“Scarlett?” Rhett called, knocking on the hall door.

“Yes?”

There was no reply.

“He probably thinks I’m going to throw myself out a window now that I’ve locked everyone out,” Scarlett thought with a roll of her eyes.

“Is there something you wanted, Rhett? I’m preparing myself for bed, for you claimed that I needed rest,” she explained smartly while removing the safety pins holding her ivory-colored bra straps in place under the dress sleeves. “I expect some privacy, after all. I’m not going to…defenestrate myself, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Scarlett smirked proudly, pleased to have been able to use the newly learned word so quickly; she hoped that she’d pronounced it correctly. A few weeks ago she was exposed to the term when she saw a photograph of Sadie pretending to be forced out of a window at a castle in Prague. She could almost see Rhett grin on the other side of the door, pleasantly surprised by her use of the word, because he remained silent for a moment.

“I’d like to speak with you.”

“Of course. I won’t be but a few minutes. I can hum or sing something if that would make you more at ease as you wait,” she teased while undoing the rest of the buttons. Without waiting for a reply, she began to hum one of her favorite new songs, Elvis Presley’s _Love Me Tender_. “Hmm, what to do with my underwear?” she wondered, staring at her nearly naked figure in the mirror after letting the dress drop to the floor. Scarlett sat to remove her stockings and then pulled a nightgown from her bureau, carrying it with her to the bathing room. When she finished freshening up, Scarlett dropped the balled up, mismatched bra and panties into an old hatbox in her closet. She couldn’t think of anyone accidentally running across them there for the time being.

In her search for a wrapper, her eyes fell on her paisley dressing gown–the one she had worn on the morning of the miscarriage.

“But, I left that behind in Marietta,” Scarlett thought distractedly, noticing that the rich color had faded from the fabric. “Why is it here, now?” This time-travel business was all very confusing.

“Scarlett?” came a worried voice after she had stopped humming.

“Just a minute,” she called, pulling an older wrapper from its hook. Scarlett stood in front of her mirror, buttoning the pale blue cotton wrapper swiftly. She frowned when she saw that her lovely bird’s nest had become a messy rat’s nest after having taken her hair down, but she hadn’t had time to brush it just yet.

“Oh, I look a fright,” she complained as she searched for a ribbon in order to tie her rare curly hair back. “If only I’d carried some of those helpful elastics with me.”

There was another knock.

“I’m nearly there. Haven’t you any patience?” an exasperated Scarlett asked as she unlocked the door and then swung it open allowing Rhett to enter at his leisure.

His eyes followed her as she bent to pick up the gown from the floor and then disappeared into her closet.

“I didn’t think you were so nostalgic for those years, Scarlett.”

“Hmm?” she wondered when she popped back out of the closet. “What years?”

“ _Aura Lea. Maid with golden hair…_ ”

“Oh,” Scarlett voiced followed by laughter at the recitation of the lyrics of the song that had emerged at the start of the war about ten years ago. “Why you’re right! How did I not make the association? I knew it sounded familiar.” Scarlett smiled, realizing why she had been so fond of Mr. Presley’s song. “It _is_ a lovely song, isn’t it?

Rhett nodded and continued to stare at Scarlett without speaking any further words, examining her from head to toe as if searching for a specific clue, an answer to Scarlett’s uncharacteristic behavior, evidence that would prove she was an imposter.

“Um–” Scarlett started, suddenly nervous in the silence between them.

“Bonnie would like to say goodnight to you.”

“Oh, did Doctor Meade–”

“Yes, we spoke,” Rhett answered, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“And he reassured you that I’m quite all right?”

“Do you mean besides the bump to your head? Funny how you hadn’t mentioned it earlier,” Rhett commented suspiciously.

“Why should I have mentioned it? Haven’t you ever knocked your head against something only to have forgotten about it in an hour’s time?”

Scarlett studied his challenging expression. She was sure Dr. Meade had done his best, considering Rhett was going to allow her to see Bonnie, but apparently it was going to take more than Dr. Meade to convince Rhett of her diagnosis.

“Maybe I’ve forgotten striking it, but generally I haven’t experienced a complete loss of self. You must have given yourself quite a blow.”

“I haven’t lost myself,” Scarlett argued. “I was merely confused for a short time and I’m perfectly well now. And besides– Oh, let’s not discuss this now,” Scarlett said with frustration, already weary with keeping up the charade. “I’m tired and I’d like to see Bonnie.”

Rhett nodded, apparently equally reluctant to start up an argument tonight. He unlocked Scarlett’s door, which connected to his room, silently directing her to follow him. Scarlett smiled when she caught sight of the foot of Bonnie’s bed as Rhett opened the second door.

Scarlett felt Rhett’s eyes on her when she entered the room, unwilling to let down his guard if she was to be near _his_ daughter. This was most definitely going to be a supervised visit. But Scarlett didn’t care; her only focus was on her daughter’s small figure in the lamplight.

“Mother?” Bonnie called groggily.

Scarlett’s heart swelled at the sight of her waking daughter.

“I’m here, Baby.”

Scarlett knelt down next to the small bed, while Rhett stood protectively close. It was clear that Bonnie hadn’t been waiting up for her, and Scarlett wondered why Rhett had generously implied that she had asked for her mother.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Scarlett whispered after kissing Bonnie on her forehead.

With a surge of energy and interest in her mother’s attention, Bonnie pushed herself up with her strong arms, kicking away her blanket and sheet, and came face to face with Scarlett.

“Missed you, too.”

Scarlett released a joyful sigh and enveloped her daughter in her arms. Silent tears readily escaped her eyes, for Bonnie was the first person who had expressed that particular sentiment since Scarlett had returned.

“Mother loves you very much, darling.”

Scarlett pulled back to study Bonnie’s pretty face–a face she never thought she’d see again in person–easily viewing the girl’s fatigue.

“Are you tired?”

Bonnie nodded.

“All right. Lay yourself down and I’ll tuck you in.”

If Bonnie hadn’t been so exhausted, Scarlett was sure her daughter would have argued, showing her parents that she was Gerald O’Hara’s granddaughter. But she obediently slid down and rested her head of black curls on the pillow.

“There,” Scarlett said, stretching the sheet, then blanket up to Bonnie’s chest. “Sleep well, precious.”

“Goodnight, Mother,” Bonnie barely released when she closed her eyes.

Scarlett kissed Bonnie’s forehead once more before turning her serene eyes to Rhett. Unable to read his face, Scarlett was unsure of what Rhett was thinking in that moment, but it wasn’t the apprehension she was expecting. It was an unfamiliar expression, nearly like his cat-at-a-mouse-hole look, but not quite the same. Holding his gaze, she nearly thanked him for allowing her this opportunity, but bit her tongue, telling herself that she should never have to thank Rhett for allowing her to see their daughter.

He held his hand out to help Scarlett from the floor, and she rose with ease.

“Goodnight, Rhett,” Scarlett said, pulling her small hand away and stepping back, aiming to return to her room.

“Scarlett.”

“What is it?” she asked, trading whispers with him. Rhett didn’t continue until he had escorted Scarlett to her room.

“Doctor Meade said you must be checked on throughout the night because of your injury.”

“Yes. I know. Are you posting Mammy in my room again?” Scarlett asked lightly.

“No, I’ve sent her to the house for the night.”

“Well, then, Prissy?” Scarlett wondered, none too happy with that choice. If she didn’t wake immediately, she could imagine Prissy attempting to slap her awake carelessly.

“No, not Prissy.”

“Pork?” Scarlett asked, surprised by the choice.

“No, I’ve had him lock up.”

“Well, who?”

“Me,” Rhett revealed, unable to mask his hesitation.

“You?” Scarlett asked with laughter.

“Yes, me,” he answered, frowning at her reaction. “Doctor Meade didn’t think you’d object,” Rhett stated with uncommon insecurity and a hint of anger at the old doctor for putting him in this position.

“No, I don’t object, but I– I’m just surprised, that’s all. I never pictured you in that sort of role. Are you going to be–”

“No,” Rhett interrupted, already knowing what remained of her question as she looked about the room. “I’ll come in and check on you periodically.”

In the middle of a lengthy yawn, Scarlett asked, “You’re staying up all night?” thinking he was making quite a sacrifice for her.

“I’ll pull a book from the library. As you know, I have an excellent reading light in my bedroom,” he said, referring to Bonnie’s lamp that burned all night.

Scarlett smiled.

“Well, I wish you luck. Any book would put me to sleep before I finished the first page,” Scarlett said, thinking of the novel that Carolyn had lent to her about sugar plantation life in late eighteenth century Jamaica–though she had made more progress in the other selected book.

“Pork left me a pot of coffee,” Rhett added, stepping toward the space between his room and hers.

“Good. That will help.”

Rhett nodded and began to pull the door closed, but paused when she spoke once more.

“Rhett… I do apologize in advance if I happen to strike you for disturbing my sleep,” Scarlett called, hearing Rhett’s quiet, comforting laughter trail to his room.

Scarlett looked to her silver-backed hairbrush resting on the vanity table as she placed her large engagement ring next to it, remembering the need to complete the required one hundred strokes, but decided her hair was such a tangled mess that she’d wash and comb it in the morning. She went about extinguishing the lamps before removing her wrapper. She pulled her bedcovers down, slipping into the cool sheets. It would take a while to adjust to her soft featherbed again after having slept on a firm mattress of air for almost the last two months. Scarlett shifted her body, searching for a comfortable position and temporarily settled on her back. She stared to the high ceiling of her Peachtree mansion bedroom, watching the shadows of her lace curtains dancing in the breeze. She grinned, noting the familiar evening sounds floating in through the window, but something stronger than a smile threatened to explode from inside her so she rolled over, buried her face in a pillow, and screamed in exultation. She was home!

 

“Scarlett? Scarlett?”

Who was whispering her name? It was growing louder and louder, until she felt fingertips against her neck and the pad of a thumb drawing across her cheek. She opened her eyes, catching sight of Rhett’s anxious black stare for a brief moment before he pulled back with relief.

Scarlett groggily turned away from him, groaning into the pillow, signaling, for the first time that night, that she was in fact still responsive. Why couldn’t she have chosen a different ailment to explain her confusion? She would have avoided the hourly sleep interruption had she been wiser. With each disruption, it was more and more difficult to return to sleep and her mind started to wander, thinking of her life in the last twenty-four hours. Scarlett replayed her day, from the anticipation of the evening’s events to her transformation from Kate Harvey to a beautiful modern imitation of Scarlett Butler. She beamed at the thought of her successful turn as a tour host and of her recollections of Dylan Connolly’s kind words about her and her father–and her descendants. And then…soon after, she somehow plummeted 140 years into the past…her present.

Recalling her discovery of the ballroom being so changed from its appearance at the grand opening, she remembered that she had left her reticule in that space. Unable to sleep, she decided that she was going to retrieve it. Now was as good of a time as any.

Forgetting that her keeper was on the other side of the wall, Rhett caught her before she had taken but two steps out of her door. He cleared his throat in signal to her.

“Oh, Rhett!” Scarlett turned with a jump. “You startled me.”

“Taking an evening stroll?”

“Well, thanks to your repeated disturbances, I can’t sleep,” Scarlett complained when he met her in the hall. “My, you have ears like a…a, well, whatever animal has good hearing,” Scarlett struggled, her mind drained from the lack of sleep.

“I would accept a bat or an owl or possibly even a cat,” Rhett teased.

“Lynx. Ears like a lynx,” Scarlett stated when it finally clicked in her brain.

“Were you trying to slip from my watch?”

“Not at all. I hadn’t even given you a thought,” she said honestly. “I remembered that I left something upstairs and I was going now to collect it.”

“Upstairs?” Rhett asked, his voice now exposing concern.

“Oh, you’re a fool if you still think–” Scarlett broke, attempting to dampen her temper. “Why don’t you join me? I have no objection to your watchful eye.”

“What sort of object are you seeking, Scarlett?” Rhett questioned smoothly, perhaps wondering if Scarlett would be able to name a specific item.

“My reticule,” she answered easily, turning toward the staircase.

Rhett silently followed, keeping guard over his wife, Scarlett’s candle lighting their way.

As they ascended the stairs, Scarlett said, “I’m sure the danger has passed. You really should get some sleep. Clearly, I’m fine.”

“Your concern for me is exceedingly generous, but you wouldn’t want me to disobey the good doctor’s orders, now would you?”

“Oh, do what you please,” Scarlett declared, noting the familiar mocking in his voice. “I can’t wait for this night to be over,” Scarlett huffed when they reached the landing.

The ballroom was nearly pitch black, the only faint light source being a lit street lamp along Peachtree. Luckily the space was almost completely devoid of furniture. Scarlett held up the candle while standing in the doorway, feeling Rhett’s strong presence beside her. Taking her steps with care, she worked her way back to the bench where she had last seen Olivia Connolly resting with her eyes closed, having grown tired of her father’s speech. Lowering the light, Scarlett illuminated her small bag stitched with glittering black beads and retrieved it.

“I’m sure Prissy could have brought it to you in the morning,” Rhett suggested.

“I’m sure she could have,” Scarlett answered shortly, “but I wanted it now.”

“So much like Bonnie,” Rhett commented quietly.

Scarlett couldn’t quite make out his words, but by the sound of Rhett’s voice, Scarlett knew there had been a smile on his lips.

Yes, she wanted the bag now. What she wanted it for was the small MP3 player that she was sure to find among the contents. If that had survived the 140-year journey, she would have something to keep her sane for the rest of the night–though she would have to hide it before Rhett made his checks on her. Thankfully, the device and the ear buds could nearly be concealed in the palm of her hand.

Scarlett set the candleholder on a small side table to free her hand so she could creep her fingers into the top of the bag. She felt around for the small blue device and happily found it resting on a pile of triple-A batteries, which Sadie had provided at the hair salon that afternoon after Scarlett complained that she’d drained her very last one on the way there. Lifting her eyes as Rhett strolled over to the set of windows at the front of the house, Scarlett kept watch as her fingers rummaged through the bag further, grazing a smooth card that Scarlett realized was the photograph that had been taken at the grand opening party not long before she had left it permanently. Everything that had been attached to her seemed to have traveled with her back to this time.

“Is everything in its proper place?” Rhett asked after noting that the exploration had ended.

“Yes,” Scarlett answered shortly, hoping Rhett wouldn’t request to see the contents of the bag for himself. She swiftly pulled the strings tight and slipped them over her wrist. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to return to your book now. Your guard duty is over for at least another hour, for you see that I’m perfectly–”

“Scarlett?” Rhett’s interrupting voice echoed in the empty space.

“Yes?”

“What happened here tonight?”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“When you ran to where I’m standing now–what… Why did you rush to the window?”

“Didn’t Doctor Meade tell you?” Scarlett asked, growing nervous at Rhett’s serious tone.

The silhouette of Rhett’s figure being the only thing Scarlett’s eyes could make out, she wished she could at least see the expression on his face. He was hard to read on the sunniest of days, but it seemed an infinitely more difficult task in the dark.

“I know what you wanted Doctor Meade to tell me. But he wasn’t here; he didn’t witness what I witnessed. I’m beginning to wonder if you truly injured your head at Tara as you’ve stated.”

Scarlett felt a chill run down the length of her arms, now certain that Rhett didn’t believe the story she had concocted. She remained silent, somehow not able to bring herself to lie and swear that what she had told the doctor was the truth. Rhett would know she was lying; her voice would give her away.

She longed to speak with Rhett and share her recent experiences with him. In fact, she _had_ told him the truth earlier, but he never acknowledged her words. He had shushed her with apologies, he had comforted her with the promise of shelter and protection, but apparently he had not listened to her–or at the very least, he had not believed her. Would she need to recount her tale again? How could she keep something so remarkable to herself? In the darkness, she wouldn’t have the ability to see the expression on his face. If she told him now, she wouldn’t have to witness the utter terror he was sure to show, realizing that she, Scarlett O’Hara, had lost her mind and most likely would never regain her senses from something so calamitous. Rhett would never believe her; he would never let Bonnie see her again. Scarlett couldn’t tell him…yet she didn’t want to lie.

“Rhett… I– I don’t wish to discuss this.”

“Well, _I_ wish to,” Rhett stressed firmly, causing Scarlett to lock her focus on him.

“Really… Rhett, why can’t you just leave it be? It’s silly for you to–”

 “To want to know why my wife is lying to me and everyone else around her?”

“Lying!” she exclaimed with all the indignation she could muster. “You accuse me? Why, how can you think that I would…”

The rest of the words caught in her throat. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t continue on this way. If she was unable to bring herself to lie, if it was impossible to tell him the truth, what was left?

“Rhett, I can’t– I can’t tell you anything,” Scarlett concluded wearily.

“You can’t, you won’t, or you don’t remember?” he asked curiously. There was a strange calmness in his voice that encouraged Scarlett to continue.

Pressing the palm of her hand to her collarbone, she said, “I truly can’t tell you. I haven’t– There isn’t anything I can say to you to explain.”

Scarlett swallowed with difficulty. No more words would rise in assistance. Her body began to shake as Rhett slowly progressed in her direction, his form growing larger with each step. What was he going to do? Would he attempt to pry the information from her?

For a moment, he paused before her and Scarlett tried to gaze anywhere but his eyes, dark and focused in the faint candlelight. She drew in a sharp breath when he stepped to her side and placed an arm around her tense shoulders, gently forcing her to walk with him to the western windows. Rhett pulled his arm away when they reached his desired destination, either trusting that Scarlett would keep her feet planted on the ground this time or certain that he could catch her once again should she try to bolt. Both stood in front of the bench Scarlett had climbed upon earlier this evening, each focusing their eyes on the flickering flame of the street lamp that was partly concealed by the leaves of a hickory tree.

Rhett turned his attention to her while she held focus on the light, folding her arms across her chest and refusing to look in his direction.

“Tell me this, Scarlett–and try to be honest for once, if only just this once. Why did you run to this window?”

“To look outside,” she stated quietly.

“Scarlett–”

“To look outside!” Scarlett repeated sturdily, dropping her arms to her side and squaring her shoulders, finally allowing herself to look at him. “It’s the honest truth.”

“And what were you aiming to see?” he asked, skepticism woven into his question.

“Exactly what I saw,” she answered cryptically.

Rhett sighed, obviously dissatisfied with her answer.

“I saw the familiar view from our home. I saw Atlanta as I know it,” Scarlett expanded. She lifted her left foot from the ground to tuck it underneath her as she lowered herself to the bench. Scarlett stretched her upper body toward the open window, leaning her elbow on the windowsill. Dreamily staring out into the darkness as a breeze caused the loose tendrils of her hair to dance, she said, “ _This_ is what I wanted to see.”

“You cried,” Rhett hesitantly stated, barely audible.

“I was so happy to be home,” she simply explained into the invigorating night air before lifting her eyes to Rhett. “Honestly happy. Those weren’t tears of sadness.”

Rhett remained silent. Scarlett knew he was watching her, though she could barely make out his eyes in the heavy shadows; she bravely held his gaze until Rhett turned to move toward the center of the room, mulling over her answer. Her words could not have sounded more authentic. Having been able to read her so well, he would have had no reason to doubt her sentiments. This was not the manner in which Scarlett O’Hara lied. When she lied, there was a subtle sharpness in her tone. When she lied, her voice would be more than cheerful; it could be exceedingly bubbly. Never did she exhibit the softness that she had in her last few statements when a lie was on her tongue.

Scarlett breathed deeply, again attempting to calm her nerves, and listened to the sound of her steady exhales. She watched Rhett take slow, deliberate steps in a tight figure eight and wondered if he would force her to say more after considering what she had already told him. Scarlett knew that if he did, he would regret it.

“Something has happened to you. Tell me what’s caused you behave this way,” Rhett demanded.

“I can’t say,” Scarlett repeated, sensing that Rhett was growing frustrated with her answers. She dropped her head. She wanted to cry.

“If I hear that one more God damn time…” he grumbled, fighting to remain calm. “What you mean is that you won’t say.”

“No, I won’t say,” Scarlett repeated, equally frustrated as she rose from the bench. “There is nothing wrong now. It’s all over and I think you should leave this be. I am well. I am happy. I am _so_ glad to be home. There is nothing wrong. Finally, everything is right,” she declared with strength. “I’m tired and I’d like to go to bed now,” she said shakily, lowering her eyes for what she had to say next. “If you choose not to wake me any more tonight, there will be no harm done, for I...I have no injury to my head,” Scarlett confessed then held her breath, not understanding what possessed her to expose her own lie, fearful that the truth would anger Rhett beyond her control; but he did not advance toward her.

“Why are you behaving this way? Why have you been lying to me?” Rhett asked with a vulnerability Scarlett had never heard in his voice before. “Something about you is different.”

“There’s nothing I can say,” Scarlett answered woefully, shaking her head helplessly. How could she make him understand her actions without telling him the absolute truth?

“Do you know the reason why you dressed in that gown this evening? Do you understand that you've changed your hair?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand why you desired to see and embrace the children tonight?”

“Yes.”

“You’re fully aware of every action you have taken tonight, every word that you’ve spoken? You understand every motivation, and yet you refuse to explain your reasons to me?”

“Yes,” Scarlett concluded forcefully, her spine growing longer with each answer. Her alert eyes watched Rhett carefully, certain he was about to explode in anger much like her father had in his lifetime. Scarlett could feel through the darkness that this was as close as Rhett had come to vocalizing his rage in a guttural roar, but it did not come to fruition. Retrieving his infallible skill, Rhett let the coolness slowly wash over him before tackling his next question.

“Are you afraid to tell me something of which you think I’ll disapprove? Do you think I’ll be angry about whatever it is you’re keeping from me?”

“No, Rhett. No. I know you wouldn’t disapprove. You would never be angry with me for it,” Scarlett said in an attempt to provide Rhett some reassurance. “Oh, I know that I’m not making any sense to you,” Scarlett lamented, “but you must believe me. I promise, you would never be upset about what you want to know, but I just can’t… I just can’t tell you everything. I don’t wish to discuss it any further.”

“Did someone hurt you at Tara?” he asked protectively, obviously deciding someone else was to blame. “Did something happen here tonight?”

Scarlett shook her head and the curls that had fallen out from the knot of the ribbon in her hair bounced in the faint glow of the streetlight.

“No. Since I’ve been away, I’ve only been treated with warmth and kindness. Nothing has happened. No one has hurt me. I’m feeling better than I have in such a long time. I feel quite like myself tonight. Don’t you see it?”

“I don’t remember you this way…” Rhett answered, his voice trailing off as he dug for more distant memories of Scarlett, perhaps blinded by the unhappiness of their marriage. “Not since…”

But Rhett did not finish his thought. Scarlett wondered if he had planned to say, “Not since we were first acquainted” when her world was still quite secure, or “Not since our honeymoon” when someone else finally took the burden off of her shoulders for a while and let her play again. After all that had happened to her, this clarity of mind, this vivaciousness, this love of life should have been impossible to retrieve, and yet she had.

Since Rhett had remained silent, Scarlett decided it was time to conclude this conversation.

“I want to go to bed. I’m sorry I can’t explain myself, but I just can’t. I won’t. Please don’t ask me any more questions.”

Scarlett took a step in the direction of the candle but halted when she witnessed Rhett shove his balled up fists in the pockets of his silk dressing gown. She could tell that he was agitated, unable to stand still a moment longer; he began to walk in her direction.

Earlier, Scarlett had been fearful of Rhett’s reaction, but somehow she was no longer afraid, and she stood rooted, waiting for his approach through the darkness.

“No one has hurt you?” he asked again, nearly leaning over her to search her face as he took her shoulders strongly in his hands.

“No,” she answered, slowly realizing that the one person she could have pointed her finger at would have been the man standing before her. _You hurt me, Rhett. You._ His hateful words before her accident had cut very deep wounds. Rhett had harmed her tremendously; he broke her heart. But the time apart, the distance of 140 years that had been forced between them, had begun to heal those wounds and she did not want to reopen them and return to the animosity of that morning two months ago.

“Why did you lie to Doctor Meade? Why did you want him to lie to me?”

“I didn’t want you to make a fuss and have you act like you are right now. I can see you think that I’ve lost my mind. I don’t doubt you’re near sending me away to the asylum, but I won’t let you, for there is no need,” Scarlett firmly replied. “But I can’t…I won’t tell you everything.”

“Scarlett–”

“Don’t look at me that way, Rhett Butler,” Scarlett chided, sensing more than seeing Rhett’s reaction. “If you think it’s all right for you to keep secrets from me… Well– I know there are many things you keep from me. And you know I’ve never pressed you on them, yet you won’t allow _me_ that same courtesy?” Scarlett questioned indignantly. “If you don’t want me to lie to you, please don’t ask me any more questions about this.”

“You’re lying to me right now by not telling me what this is all about.”

“It has _nothing_ to do with you. You are in no way affected by it,” she reassured.

“Not affected! My God, Scarlett–”

“No. No more. I’m through discussing this,” Scarlett interrupted, signaling her irritation by trying to push him away and step past him, though he wouldn’t budge. Irritated, she continued to explain, “I have not been hurt. I am so much better. You’ll see. Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, you’ll see that I am well.”

Scarlett’s eyes searched his, attempting to convey that message through the darkness. He should have no further worries about this night. It should all be forgotten and life could move on.

Rhett broke the gaze first, bowing his head in defeat and sliding his hands down Scarlett’s arms before pulling away. The tightened muscles of Scarlett’s squared jaw signaled to him that she was not about to give in. Scarlett was not sure if her eyes had adjusted to the darkness properly, but Rhett’s face seemed to be burning with torment. Had she truly had this effect on him? If she had read him correctly, what did this mean? She was too tired to think on it any further. In any case, victory was hers for the time being.

Tonight Scarlett felt a strength she hadn’t known since those hard days at Tara near the end of the war, when little by little, she had taken actions that led to the survival of her family. The situation had been dire, but they hadn’t perished, nor would they when all was said and done. She had been, and was still, capable of anything. The feeling had taken root this morning as she had prepared for her triumphant return as mistress of this house. Scarlett felt a satisfying surge of power while holding her stance against Rhett’s demands. But how had she forced him to retreat so easily? She knew this wasn’t over. Rhett believed himself to have surrendered the battle, though he would be determined to win the war. But she would make everything better, so much better that Rhett would forget all about this with time. With each day that passed, he would question her less and less, and eventually believe her to be in perfect health. She was in perfect health, mind and body, or she would be very soon. Now she only needed to make Rhett see that it was true.

“You have nothing more to say to me?” Rhett quietly asked.

Scarlett shook her head in response.

“No.”

Rhett turned and walked to the table to lift up their light source and then returned to her, grasping her arm gently; they slowly took the stairs in silence. When he left her at her bedroom door, the only word he uttered was ‘goodnight’. Scarlett immediately stashed her unopened reticule away in her now very secret old hatbox and her exhausted body soon found restful sleep, deep enough to never have known that Rhett had continued his checks on her throughout the early morning hours, stirring her just enough to know that she was alive.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Step in and see how Scarlett spent her first day "home". Enjoy :)  
> Apologies for the formatting at the beginning. Why such wide blank spaces? I don't know, but I wish I could reduce the size.
> 
> Warning: there is some mature language in this chapter (just a couple of words, I think).

Part Two

Chapter 14

 

Exterior envelope:

            _Not to be opened until September 16, 2011._

_Please do not discard._

_If you respect me, you shall respect my wishes._

 

_Scarlett Butler_

Interior envelope:

           

            _To be opened ONLY by the manager of the Peachtree Street house of_

_Scarlett Butler on or immediately after the date of September 16, 2011._

_Again, I ask you to please respect my wishes._

_Scarlett Butler_

 

The Letter:

 

            _October 12, 1871_

_Dear D.C., C.J., O.C., A.C., P.B., J.B., J.N., and S.G.,_

_I am home! I arrived on the evening when I last saw you all. I suppose I_

_ought not say too much of my accidental journey in case this letter never_

_reaches you, but I do so hope that it does. My travels did not seem to take_

_but a moment in time and were quite painless._

 

_I’ve been thinking so much of you all lately. I often wish that we could be_

_together again. I miss your company, your friendship, and your kind hearts._

_Please know that I am well and that I did not wish to leave you in the manner_

_in which I did. It was a sudden and unexpected departure, and I regret not being_

_able to say goodbye. I’ll never be able to repay you for your generosity. All I can_

_do is say THANK YOU._

_You are all forever in my heart._

_With love,_

_Scarlett Butler_

 

“See, Liv?” Carolyn crouched down with the letter in hand to show Olivia. “See, Scarlett sent us a goodbye note.”

As Olivia reached for the yellowed sheet of paper, Carolyn carefully pulled it back.  

“Nope. This is very special, delicate paper. You can look, but you can’t touch. Do you see your initials on it?”

“Int…shals?” Olivia asked, first looking to her mother and then up to her father who was leaning against his office desk holding Aidan in his arms.

“These initials are the first letter of your first name and the first letter of your last name. They are placed next to one another.”

Olivia scanned the paper, beginning at the top and pointed to the first two letters of “October”.

“Yes, you’re partly right, but that’s not where Scarlett mentioned you. That’s the month when she wrote the note to us. What month was it?”

“Oc…to…ber,” Olivia answered.

Scanning the letter with deeper determination, her eyes stopped at “O.C.” and pointed her small index finger to the initials.

“Yes, O.C., for Olivia Connolly. Scarlett made sure to remember you in her note,” Carolyn assured her daughter. “And what does she first tell us?”

Olivia again focused on the words in front of her.

“I. Am. Home.”

“That’s right. She’s gone home to be with her family and wanted us to know that she is all right. She says she misses all of us and is very sorry that she wasn’t able to say goodbye to you and me and Dad and Aidan. Would you like to make a copy of her letter to keep for yourself?”

Olivia nodded.

Carolyn placed the treasured letter on Dylan’s desk and beckoned Olivia over to his chair, setting a blank sheet of paper next to Scarlett’s note and retrieving a pencil from the drawer. Dylan handed Aidan over to Carolyn and helped his daughter up onto the chair.

“OK, you have to promise not to touch the letter with this pencil or your sweet little hands for that matter,” Dylan stipulated.

“I won’t,” Olivia answered obediently before leaning her body over the desk to copy the words that had been written in Scarlett’s hand.

Carolyn looked to Dylan as they flanked the chair and said, “This. Is. Incredible. Unbelievable! I’m _so_ glad she thought of a way to let us know where she went and that she’s OK. I can’t believe the letter made it to this day, unopened! Did you let Marilyn see it?”

“How could I not?” Dylan replied. “She’s the one who ran across it in Scarlett’s papers yesterday when she was probably searching for some family connection to a certain Kate Harvey,” Dylan decided with a smirk.

“What did she say?”

“When she took possession of Scarlett’s papers several years ago, she remembered running across a pair of letters that were not to be opened yet and had been tempted to find out what they revealed, but refrained from doing so. This letter, of course, is one of them.”

“What’s the other one?” Carolyn interrupted, fascinated by the possibilities.

“We don’t know. The time hasn’t come yet.”

“When can we find out? Was it for you?”

“We’re not sure, but if it is, I’ll have to hold this job at least through July eighteenth of next year for us to find out.”

“Make sure you do,” Carolyn ordered with only a hint of humor. “So, back to Marilyn…”

She asked me what I thought of it and wondered why a bizarre letter about a return home had been intended for me–or someone in my position–and why now of all times? I pretended to be just as baffled as she. She was more amused than anything, I think. Marilyn’s requesting that I leave it in her care so she can do some research. She’s not questioning the authenticity, just the intention. It’s only a matter of time until she decodes the initials.”

“You think she’ll figure it out?”

“She’s a smart woman, Car. If it comes down to it, if she figures it out, I won’t be able to deny the truth. Though the truth is so implausible, how could she ever make the correct assumption?”

“Hopefully she’ll chalk it up to coincidence if she ever connects our names to the intended recipients. Or maybe she’ll discover that her great-great grandmother was a soothsayer,” Carolyn replied with a grin.

“Scarlett was very accomplished. We could just add this to the list,” Dylan added in kind, as pleased as Carolyn to know that Scarlett was well and that she had considerately remembered them. While he missed her bright spirit in the household–a spirit that had grown to compliment his over time–Dylan was glad that her body _and_ soul were returned to the family she had so desired to be a part of again.

           

*              *              *

           

Scarlett awoke the next day with her face buried in a pillow, quite unsure of her surroundings. She’d grown accustomed to the cool breeze of a fan blowing on her face each night and the irritating sound of the creaky box spring below her mattress announcing her every move; neither was noticeable now. When she finally flipped her body over and opened her eyes, Scarlett saw that the room was illuminated by sunlight that never fully made its way into her basement bedroom at Dylan and Carolyn’s Marietta house. This was most certainly her magnificent Peachtree Street bedroom. Reaching her hands up to the headboard in order to brace them for the perfect stretch, Scarlett extended her spine and pointed her toes sharply toward the ornately carved footboard to make the most of it, her voice sighing with relief. She folded her arms above her head, not wanting her tired body to move another millimeter.

A thought crossed her mind that perhaps last night had been a dream. But if it hadn’t, she wondered if it had been a mistake to fall asleep, even though her fatigue had been too great to battle. Scarlett thought that she might have been drawn back to 2011, having been left alone last night. After all, a similar thing had happened in the one film Scarlett had seen in a theater during her time spent in modern Atlanta; this film also dealt with the subject of time travel. Once the main character left the company of those that he met in the past, he was always returned to the present day. Now that Scarlett was in this room alone, was she in the past or the present? The room certainly looked ‘lived-in’, unlike the counterpart in modern times. She grinned and briefly searched for a _Do Not Sit or Sleep_ sign on the coverlet that she knew never existed. Wouldn’t the Atlanta History Center have a fit if they knew she had spent the night in her now antique bed!

Scarlett sat up and looked to the closed doors that led to the hall and Rhett’s room, noting nothing but silence behind either one of them. Well, there was one way to find out which space-time she occupied today. The interior of an old mansion might play tricks on her eyes, but the outside world could not lie. She slid her legs out from under the silky sheet and padded to a northern window in her bare feet. Her toes scratched at the wool carpet and Scarlett noticed that it wasn’t olive in color anymore; the pattern was strewn with pink roses just as she had originally ordered. This was an encouraging sign.

Looking into the sunlit yard, Scarlett did not detect a trace of a more modern age. The hooves of horses were clomping down Ellis, the wheels of carriages were rattling by merrily _and_ the towering _Ritz-Carlton_ was nowhere in sight. Scarlett soon noticed Ella’s figure sprinting into the yard with Bonnie trailing a good distance behind her on her short legs. At the sound of her daughters’ voices arguing about which outdoor adventures to pursue, Scarlett smiled, thinking this must be how all sisters were with each other at times. She, herself, had experienced many squabbles like this with her sister Suellen.

Scarlett immediately drew herself back from the window when she caught sight of Rhett keeping careful watch over the girls, recalling their awkward and rather unusual conversation from just a few hours before. She had immediately decided that avoidance was the best policy where Rhett was concerned until his suspicions cooled. Despite her need to prove to him that there was nothing irrational about her, the less he saw of her the better until she could find her bearings.

What time was it anyway? The sun seemed to be high in the sky. Scarlett looked to the mantle clock and was shocked by what she saw.

“One-thirty!” How could she still be in her nightgown at this hour? How did she sleep through the invasion of sunlight? “Should I have been to the store? The lumberyard? What day is it?”

Retrieving the small calendar she kept in her bedroom gave her no clues. September was completely void of personal or professional entries. She would have to make a visit to her office downstairs to find a more detailed calendar, but first she would try to extract the information from Prissy when the breakfast tray was delivered.

Scarlett tugged one of the braided bell pulls and then returned to the window, careful to conceal herself behind a curtain in order to spy on her family. It appeared that Ella and Bonnie had decided to become junior botanists as they had immersed themselves in one of the flowerbeds. Ella busied herself with a count of the blooming purple asters while Bonnie took to petting the soft petals of the yellow and scarlet daylilies, examining the delicate anthers dangling out from the center of the flower. Scarlett smiled when Rhett reminded Ella of the next number on her count, for she was always so easily distracted and would pause in thought after her attention had been diverted. With Rhett’s help, Ella was able to continue where she had helplessly left off. Twenty… Twenty-one…

For Scarlett’s first morning home, the domestic scene before her was a most welcome sight. It eased her mind to realize that even if she had been lost forever, Rhett would have been a kind and caring father to her children–she hoped to _all_ her children and not just Bonnie, though he really had no obligation to Wade or Ella. She made a mental note to speak with him about this sometime soon. Maybe Rhett would even be kind enough to make a guarantee in writing that the siblings would be raised together should they lose their mother. Hopefully, he would agree to her wishes and not send Ella to Suellen or to Frank’s sister. She supposed Melanie would take Wade, though he adored his Uncle Rhett, and Scarlett would hate to see her son and his stepfather parted.

Scarlett closed her eyes, hoping to divert thoughts of vanishing for a second time; she never wished it to happen again, but thought it wise to consider making certain plans should her family face anything similar once more. She might not leave a part of herself behind the next time. Scarlett briefly glanced behind her, still wondering if she’d find her ‘other self’ watching her from some corner of the room; Scarlett assumed she would find out sooner rather than later if she had a twin running about Atlanta. Hopefully, whatever part of her that was left behind was now safely fused with the part that had disappeared.

Scarlett grasped the gilt holdback and leaned her hip into the wall with a sigh. Her dimples showed as she watched Rhett in the bright sun. Strangely, he seemed to be a fine symbol of home. If her husband could have seen her face, he would have found what he had always been searching for, though Scarlett was not at all aware of this or what her expression truly revealed. Scarlett’s musings were short-lived, however, as she caught Bonnie yanking a magenta-colored zinnia out from the dirt by the stem.

“My flowers!” Scarlett internally shouted, growing cross, thinking that Bonnie would take to destroying the entire garden.

“For Mother,” she heard Bonnie announce to her father, immediately cooling Scarlett’s temper and warming her heart. But when Rhett took the flower from her and praised Bonnie’s consideration, she quickly made her way back to the morning glories that climbed the fence and pulled out a purple flower with each fist.

“All right,” Rhett laughed, lifting Bonnie up from the flowerbed with ease. “You’ll be sure to turn your mother’s smile into a frown if you pick any more,” he explained, followed by a kiss to her cheek.

Scarlett grinned at the thoughtful thoughtlessness of her daughter. 

“Aft’noon, Miss Scarlett,” Prissy said while entering with a tray of food that emitted a mouthwatering aroma.

“Oh!” Scarlett exclaimed, jumping away from the curtain. “Prissy, you startled me. You must have read my mind,” Scarlett said, referring to the fine breakfast that had been delivered to the room.

“Do you want your tray in bed or–”

“Over here,” Scarlett directed to the small sitting area on the east side of the room. Scarlett sat, taking the tray over her lap and stared down to the eggs and ham and bacon and buttered biscuit and coffee and wondered where to start. She was ravenous after it having been nearly twenty-four hours since her last proper meal.

“Yes. It _is_ afternoon,” Scarlett spoke with a bite of biscuit in her mouth. “What happened to _morning_?”

“Mist’ Rhett asked us to keep quiet and let you sleep for as long as you needed.”

“He did, did he?” asked Scarlett, suspicious of her husband’s considerate actions. “That’s probably why he’s kept the girls outdoors,” Scarlett thought while continuing to shovel food in her mouth. “I wonder why he didn’t wake me with a fright and begin interrogating me early this morning?” This behavior was most unexpected.

“I’ve slept so long I feel I’ve lost track of the day, Prissy. It’s still September sixteenth, isn’t it?”

“Yes’m.”

“It’s still Friday,” Scarlett recalled. “Have I neglected my responsibilities at the store or the mills this morning?”

“It’s Saturday, Miss Scarlett,” Prissy corrected without suspicion and Scarlett thought briefly about how a Friday had instantly turned into a Saturday. “Mist’ Rhett’s been tending to your business.”

“Oh.” Well, wasn’t he all kindness. “Prissy,” Scarlett began before pausing for a sip of coffee, “prepare my bath. I’ll need my hair washed as well. But first bring me another biscuit…and the strawberry jam.”

“Yes’m.”

           

Scarlett spent a good part of the afternoon picking out the tangles from her wet hair with a fine-toothed comb, frowning at the loss of curl that Sadie or one of her stylists often assisted her with during her days at the salon. It would take a lot of bandoline to recreate her modern look and treasured curls, though the quince-seed concoction would steal away all the softness, unfortunately. But Scarlett reminded herself that she was no longer in 2011; she could not wear her hair down anymore. And all the while, Scarlett couldn’t help but think of what she would now do with her bangs. They couldn’t be left to hang there flat in her eyes, yet she didn’t know if she trusted Prissy with hot curling tongs. In pursuing one of her recent desires, Scarlett had put herself in quite a dilemma. She had never considered who would style her bangs when she had all but begged Rhett to allow her to cut them. Well, she would just have to learn to do it herself…or maybe she would decide to hire another maid, one solely to tend to her hair; Prissy truly wasn’t all that bad with hair, but she had one significant strike against her–she could be clumsy. Scarlett wasn’t sure if she dared risk a burnt forehead or a bald patch.

Each day of her recent modern life, Scarlett had been testing out new hair products that Sadie sold at her salon because Sadie had wanted her familiar with everything in order to make recommendations to customers. Scarlett now knew the pleasures of modern styling serums and hair conditioner. She especially lamented the loss of the conditioner as her comb caught another snag. How silky it had made her hair! While her hair’s texture had been very pleasant in the past, it would take a good while to bring it back to its former glory in the old-fashioned way again.

Recalling the day of the week as her eyes caught sight of the black-beaded choker resting in a pile in front of her, Scarlett realized why she sensed an importance to this day. Saturday would have been the day of her first open-to-the-public tours of this house as part of the grand opening weekend celebrations at the Atlanta Irish Institute. Her eyes grew sad, feeling terrible for putting everyone in this position. Now, who would take over her tours? She had been scheduled for three today and three for Sunday. Why couldn’t she have returned home after the festivities had concluded instead of at a most inopportune time? She began to think of Dylan and Carolyn and all her new friends and wondered if they knew she had found her way back home. Had they thought that she’d run away, not caring enough to say goodbye?

“Miss Scarlett?” Mammy spoke from behind the door, interrupting Scarlett’s meditations.

 “Come in, Mammy,” Scarlett called, having requested the presence of her oldest servant only minutes before.

Mammy waddled in and quickly closed the door behind her, finding her mistress clad only in her chemise.

“It’s a glorious day, isn’t it?” Scarlett beamed, referring not only to the ideal weather, but also to her return, as she looked to the windows, watching the sheer curtains billow in the temperate breeze.

“It’s a fine day,” Mammy answered with a nod.

“Sit down, Mammy,” Scarlett insisted, pointing her comb in the direction of a nearby chair.

Mammy gave her a questioning glance. It was a rare occasion that she had such an invitation.

“Please,” Scarlett insisted, waiting until Mammy moved to the armless chair before she spoke again. “I have some questions for you,” Scarlett said as Mammy sat and watched Scarlett pluck the comb at a snarl. “I’m sure you were present when Doctor Meade left last night?”

Mammy nodded.

“And you heard that I’d hit my head at Tara and was having troubles with my memory?”

Mammy again nodded.

Scarlett was relieved not to see any suspicion in Mammy’s aging face. Thankfully, it seemed that Rhett had kept the truth to himself, at least for the time being.

“I need you to help me recover my memory. Where have I been since my accident?”

“Miss Scarlett, don’t you remember nothin’ since then?” Mammy asked with grave concern.

Scarlett shook her head.

“You must swear that you won’t tell Rhett or anyone else. I only trust you with this, Mammy. Promise me you won’t say anything. Swear to me as if I were my mother. You would never tell her secrets, would you?”

“No, Miss Scarlett, I wouldn’t. And for Miss Ellen _and_ for you, I swear I won’t tell yours,” Mammy said proudly.

“Thank you, Mammy.”

Scarlett dropped her eyes for a moment.

“No, I don’t remember my life here since I fell. I’m certain it will come back to me with time, but at this moment I need you to tell me everything that’s happened since then. I remember that I slipped and lost my balance, and I fell, but after that…”

As Mammy hesitated, Scarlett turned her attention back to the mirror in front of her, thinking Mammy may have an easier time speaking if she didn’t have to look into the inquisitive eyes of her former charge.

“You was real bad off right away,” Mammy started off slowly. “Doctor Meade was called and…and you was having a real hard time what with your rib near cuttin’ into your lung, and the fever…and the…the bleedin’ that jus’…it jus’ wouldn’t stop,” she bravely disclosed, a few tears running down her plump cheeks. “We was afraid you might…”

 “That I might die?” Scarlett asked, sensing that was the only conclusion to Mammy’s gloomy, trailing statement.

“Yes’m. But, you didn’t die,” Mammy said, her spirits raised by the thought as she dried her eyes and cheeks with her apron. “Praise the Lord, you got more strength than anybody I know. You got better in time. But you was still sad.”

“Because of the baby. I was sad because I lost the baby,” Scarlett stated distantly, then mentally added, “and because of _how_ I lost the baby.”

Mammy nodded somberly.

“I recovered here, in this house?”

“Yes’m. You was recoverin’ in this here bed for weeks, then gettin’ ‘round a little about the house, but you was still in a struggle with your mind.”

Scarlett nodded knowingly and set the comb on the tabletop, ceasing her constant motion, sensing the sadness that still hung like a low cloud in the room.

“I wasn’t myself, was I, Mammy?”

“No’m, you wasn’t. You was quiet. You didn’t talk much at all. It was like you was a different person. Like you had no spirit inside you,” Mammy answered frankly.

Scarlett looked away, knowing how very correct Mammy had been. So, she had left the shell of herself here when she was transported into the future and was somehow given a twin body in which her spirit traveled. It was much too puzzling to concentrate on for any length of time. If only Carolyn Jensen had been here to explain it to her, then maybe she could have grasped the idea, even if just a little.

Mammy rose and reached for the comb, gently taking it to Scarlett’s tangles.

“We all thought Tara would do you good. Mast’ Wade and Miss Ella and Prissy went with you there four weeks ago. You jus’ back with us now as of yesterday.”

“So, I recovered here for a month and then went to Tara for another month?”

“Yes’m. You seem much better now. Tara did do you good. I thought you was much like my Lil’ Miss, last night, much like before the war started.”

“I feel a bit like her,” Scarlett revealed happily, looking up to her dear mammy with a smile.

“Tara always does you good.”

“So, Wade and Ella were with me at Tara and Rhett and Bonnie stayed here?”

“I looked after ‘em. But, well…Miss Bonnie went a bit wild when you was gone. I tried everything, but Mist’ Rhett…”

“But, Rhett allowed her to run wild,” Scarlett concluded, sensing the stain on Mammy’s pride. “You did the best you could, Mammy; Rhett’s always spoiling her and letting her do what she wants. You know I haven’t been able to stop him myself.”

Scarlett caught a look of shame in Mammy’s eyes when she exchanged the comb for Scarlett’s brush, dragging it along Scarlett’s partially damp hair as she had done a thousand times before, and wondered if Mammy was feeling guilty for taking Rhett’s side in everything recently. Scarlett closed her eyes, enjoying the familiar feel of having her hair brushed by her caring mammy instead of the unsympathetic Prissy.

“You must not have listened to your Mammy while you was away at Tara. Your skin’s nearly as brown as Dilcey’s now,” Mammy exaggerated. “And you’s freckled everywhere I can see. Did you forget your hat and shawl every day?”

“I think I did, Mammy,” Scarlett answered peacefully, her eyes remaining closed.

“I ain’t seen your hair this short since you was a lil’ girl.”

“I decided that I would have a generous trim. The ends feel very soft now, don’t they?”

“Real soft. And you’s got bangs now. What you gonna do with them?”

“I’m not quite sure yet, Mammy. But every fashionable lady is wearing them, you know. Why shouldn’t I have them, too?”

“Jus’ a hassle, I say.”

“I’m sure they will be,” Scarlett answered apprehensively, blowing her breath upwards to flutter her thick bangs out of her eyes.

When Mammy was reaching nearly the hundredth stroke over the raven locks, light tapping sounded on the hall door and Scarlett could hear Bonnie and Ella’s sprightly voices coming from the other side.

“Mother!” Bonnie’s loud voice broke through the thick door.

“Mammy, get my wrapper. Just a minute!” Scarlett called, waiting for Mammy to emerge from the closet. Scarlett stepped up to her and slipped her arms into the modest pale blue wrapper she had worn the night before, swiftly looping the buttons as she made her way to the door.

After cracking the door open, Scarlett immediately directed her eyes downward, knowing her daughters were waiting. At the sight of their grinning mother, Ella and Bonnie quickly stretched out their arms, together holding a vase of flowers toward her. Scarlett laughed joyfully, seeing how each girl wanted to be the one to present the bouquet, and Ella being the taller, pulled the vase away from Bonnie to hand to Scarlett and Bonnie gave her best impression of her mother’s scowl.

“I picked flowers, Mother!” Bonnie shouted, making sure to be the first to express her generosity.

“Why, thank you so much, darling.”

“I picked some, too,” Ella added more quietly.

“Which ones?” Scarlett asked, noting the pale purple asters, the ends of the short sprigs struggling to reach the water. She bit her tongue to avoid a scolding, knowing there would be a colorless patch amongst the cluster of plants.

“The purple ones,” Ella explained. “With the yellow–”

“I picked the rest!” Bonnie interrupted.

Scarlett finally looked up to Rhett with a brief but warm smile, as he stood watch over the scene from behind the girls. He obviously was continuing on with his assessment of her mental state because Scarlett could sense his very focused eyes on her every action. She was sure it had been Rhett’s idea to come up here and have the girls present the flowers so that he could at least get a look at her and attempt to solve the mystery that she had become.

“Surely not the rose?” she asked, returning her attention to Bonnie.

“No,” Bonnie whispered sadly and added, “Sharp.”

“Yes, the thorns are very sharp.”

“That’s from Daddy,” Bonnie disclosed.

Scarlett again offered Rhett a smile.

“Thank you, Rhett,” she offered charmingly.

He cleared his throat, perhaps uncomfortable with Scarlett’s atypical responsiveness. Why hadn’t she appeared indifferent or even cold? Where was the usual pretense?

“We heard that you had finally emerged from your slumber,” Rhett said as he nervously rocked forward on his feet, though his voice remained calm. “Has the rest given you some relief?”

“Yes, thank you. I feel quite wonderful. Mammy and I are just now catching up on the happenings here since I’ve been away,” Scarlett explained, handing the vase over to Mammy before brushing her silky bangs over to one side of her forehead with her fingertips.

Rhett’s attention had been drawn to Scarlett’s change in appearance with her motion, causing Scarlett to feel as if she would soon squirm under the scrutiny if he didn’t break his stare. She wasn’t yet sure what he would choose as punishment for her action, but she felt he was a man who kept his word, so she instinctively pressed her hand against the back of her neck, protectively trapping the black tresses underneath her palm.

“Well, we won’t impose on you any further,” Rhett said, seeming as if he had changed his mind and wanted to flee from her doorway as soon as possible.

Before Rhett could pull the girls away, Scarlett crouched down and hugged Ella. This show of affection for her child was certainly uncharacteristic for Scarlett, but she still felt the intense need to touch the people around her and make sure they were real and not a figment of her imagination. And for the first time in her life, she was showing true appreciation for the existence of her children.

“Thank you for the asters, Ella. They’re darling.”

Then she pivoted to Bonnie, carefully taking her in her arms in hopes of avoiding the moist dirt that stained the hem of Bonnie’s frilly pale-blue and white dress.

“Thank you for the flowers, precious.” Scarlett then kissed Bonnie’s forehead. “But promise you’ll ask for my permission before pulling any more out of my garden.”

Bonnie nodded, then looked up to her father, thinking her mother should embrace him next for the gift of the rose. Scarlett’s eyes followed Bonnie’s and wondered if she should give him a peck on the cheek, but apparently Rhett had made the decision for her, and he ushered the girls away before she had the chance to rise and meet him.

 

It was a rather motley bouquet of flowers, Scarlett decided, staring at the unconventional arrangement on her vanity table, but leaned in to capture the sweet smell of the red rose that had been cut from the rose garden, which had been planted around the perimeter of the gazebo. She was putting the finishing touches on her less-than-voluminous hair, finally having decided to give up on her bangs for this day, and instead, sweeping the trailing ends to one side to reveal her thick slanting eyebrows. It was maybe a more modern look for bangs than she should attempt, but it was the only solution for the day, or what was left of it. Soon, it would be time for supper. Tomorrow, she could take the time to experiment with curling tongs.

All day she had been itching to check in on her office and determine what had been on her agenda for the upcoming week. Hopefully, her business calendar would give her some indication, though she expected it might be as bare as her personal calendar since her 1871-self had been spending the last few months recovering from the miscarriage. But she wouldn’t dare ask Rhett about her duties, now, knowing for certain that she had immediately discussed such business matters upon her arrival from Tara. Scarlett had no doubt that it would have been the first thing on her mind. It would only make Rhett more suspicious if she needed him to remind her of an earlier discussion.

For the first time since returning, Scarlett was going to make her way down the stairs to the main floor of the house where she had last seen Peggy Byrne’s husband. There would be enough time before supper to go over her calendar and maybe even peek at some of her ledgers, which had probably been dropped off that late afternoon if Rhett hadn’t already collected them. She had no doubt that Rhett had handled everything expertly while she was away, but she was curious to see if business had even improved with his direct influence. Scarlett would have no complaints if it had, however she knew that Rhett’s heart wouldn’t have been in it like hers had.

As she began her descent down the main staircase, Scarlett spotted the genial Melanie Wilkes in the front hall pulling off her bonnet, having just been admitted into the house by Pork. Melanie’s curly black hair was pulled back and held in a net, simple as always, and her sweet, tranquil eyes watched Scarlett float down the stairs in a fresh mint and cream-colored dress. When Scarlett neared the main floor, she sped up her pace, nearly sprinting to her old friend.

“Melly! How very good to see you!” Scarlett exclaimed genuinely, wrapping her arms around her sister-in-law tightly. It _was_ good to see her. It was good to see everyone from the past–now her present–whether it be a friend or a foe or someone in between.

“Scarlett! My!” Melanie lightly shouted, taken aback by the uncharacteristic attack, though not displeased by it. She pulled away, holding Scarlett at arms length to assess her health. “You look wonderful, Scarlett. Your eyes look as lively as ever. And, why, you’ve changed your hair!”

Scarlett nodded, a proud glint in her eyes.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s very…fresh,” Melanie decided with approval. “How are you feeling, Scarlett, dear?”

“I’ve never been better,” Scarlett answered, pulling her toward the sitting room. “To what do I owe this visit?” she asked as if Melanie ever had a reason to socialize with her beyond sisterly kinship.

“I had to come and check on you and see for myself that you were well. When Ashley and I heard that you were ill last night, I had such fright that your health had taken a turn for the worse. I came straight here this morning, but Captain Butler said you were still resting and didn’t think it a good idea to disturb you. Dilcey told me that you were awake now and I wanted to see you with my own eyes. But, look at you! You seem much better than I’ve seen you in some time.”

Scarlett’s sparkling eyes smiled. She lowered herself down onto the large sofa, pulling down Melanie with her, their figures dwarfed by the massive piece of furniture.

“Well, last night Rhett certainly was more concerned than he needed to be. I was perfectly fine, but he felt that I needed some rest after the journey back from Tara.”

“Of course, and really there was no need to rush,” Melanie expressed, patting Scarlett’s hand with care.

“No rush for what, Melly?” Scarlett asked, thinking that there must have been a reason for her and Rhett to visit the Wilkes’ home the previous evening. “Is this something about last night? I suppose Rhett told you of the trouble I was having with my memory?”

Melanie nodded.

“You see, I hit my head against a window frame at Tara, and last night I had difficulty remembering things. I’d forgotten that we had a planned visit. Why were Rhett and I to meet with you and Ashley last evening?”

“Oh, but Scarlett,” Melanie giggled, “surely, you wouldn’t have forgotten about this!”

“I’m sorry to say that I have, but now I’m quite interested in what I’ve forgotten. It must have been important,” Scarlett decided, furrowing her brow.

“Well, you were to sign the papers last night.”

“Papers? What sort of papers?”

“To sell your mills to Ashley. We had planned to celebrate after everything was finalized.”

“Sell the mills?” Scarlett asked to herself before shooting up from her seat. “Sell the mills!” she shouted, causing Melanie to retreat. “Sell the mills to Ashley? Why you must be joking,” Scarlett decided incredulously. “Why would I ever want to do that? Oh, you’re joking. Why would you play such a trick on me, Melanie Wilkes?”

After examining Melanie’s distressed expression, Scarlett finally realized that her friend was not playing a prank on her, and her faint smile melted away completely. But sell the mills? What would have possessed her to agree to that? The mills were her darlings, her pride. She had brought them up from next to nothing and turned them into the thriving lumber business that it was today. Why should she sell them…and to someone like Ashley Wilkes? Surely he would lose it all, throwing her dedicated hard work into the gutter, no matter how unintentional. Her other half, the part left behind in 1871 to make this decision, had revealed herself to be quite the fool. How in Heaven’s name had this come about? Scarlett chose to direct her energy down a more practical avenue–the how, not the why of the matter.

“It’s impossible. Ashley buying my mills? I know you never have an extra cent. Where would he possibly get the money?”

Melanie’s cheeks turned bright red. Hadn’t Captain Butler said he would handle everything? She had only been put in charge of convincing Ashley to offer to buy the mills with the money he had received. It was not supposed to be up to her to concoct stories for her sister-in-law. Somehow it felt as if it was easier lying to her husband than it would be to lie to Scarlett. This hadn’t been part of the bargain.

“Melly, where did the money come from?” Scarlett asked steadily, leaning forward with an intense stare. In the depths of Melanie’s eyes, Scarlett could tell there was a secret to be told. “I wouldn’t sell it to him for nothing, even if he is a dear old friend.”

“Scarlett…Well, Ashley, you know when he was at Rock Island…there was a man he nursed there and…” Melanie began, unable to look Scarlett directly in the eyes.

Scarlett interrupted the charade, not wanting to waste any more time wading through a pool of lies. She sat down next to Melanie on the plush cushion and pressed her hands firmly to Melanie’s shoulders.

“Melly, where did Ashley get the money? How did he decide that he was going to buy me out? He’s never shown interest before.”

Melanie remained silent, the tears hanging from the cliffs of her eyes revealed her struggle. Scarlett again wrapped her arms around the delicate woman. If firmness wasn’t going to work with Melanie, gentleness would.

“Oh, Melly. I’m sorry I’m upsetting you, but you must tell me. My memory is most unhelpful to me right now,” she said fretfully, speaking over Melanie’s narrow shoulder and petting her netted hair. “Aren’t we sisters?” she asked with a sweetness that masked her manipulation. “Don’t we tell each other the absolute truth, always?”

Melanie backed away guiltily and cried, pulling a handkerchief from her reticule and pressing it to her eyes.

“Scarlett. Dearest Scarlett, I’m so sorry. It was I that convinced Ashley that he should offer to buy the mills from you. You had been working so hard for so long and, well…we were all so concerned for your health. We were afraid you would work yourself into an early grave. It was bad of me to do it this way. I see that now. But, I only wanted to help you. Captain Butler said–”

“Rhett? Rhett had something to do with this?” Scarlett asked, nearly voicing the question in the manner of a statement. Somehow, she was not surprised.

“He was so concerned for your health after your…accident. He knew that your work tired you out and he only wanted you to get better…after we nearly lost you. I know he couldn’t bear it happening again. He thought if you didn’t have the burden of the lumber business, your health would be sure to improve.”

Scarlett listened, shocked into silence.

“How lucky you are to have a husband who is so nice to you, so kind as to try and make your life better. He is so concerned for you and–”

“What did he do? I don’t understand. Did he force me to sell? He _couldn’t_ have forced me,” Scarlett reasoned.

“No, it was your decision. I’m sure of it.”

Scarlett shook her head and became mute, unclear about what she needed to pursue next to solve this mystery. She had somehow decided to sell, but Rhett and Melanie had set her on that path. No, they had set _Ashley_ on the path that led to her saying yes to his offer. And Rhett wanted this to be the outcome, but for what purpose? Melanie said it had been for her welfare. Scarlett didn’t believe it. Not one word. What she did know was that Melanie believed anything anyone told her, and that included the chivalrous reasons for the conspiracy conceived by her scheming husband. What had possessed Rhett to set this plan into action? It wasn’t over concern for her. If it had been, he could have easily spoken with her about her workload. He could have easily taken on some of the burden of running the mills or store when necessary. Why, he could have even requested that she sell the mills for the good of her health and she would have at least given it some thought.

Why would Rhett want her to transfer the business from her productive hands and place it into Ashley’s less-than-capable ones? How could this possibly benefit Rhett? Certainly, he’d casually suggested several times that she sell, but he had not been insistent. He had not seemed so desperate as to go behind her back to rid her of the mills. From the start, Rhett hadn’t wanted Ashley involved in the mills. From the very start… Ashley…          

Oh, wasn’t his motivation plainly obvious? Scarlett could see things so clearly now, as if a blindfold had been lifted from her eyes. Rhett wanted her to be separated from Ashley for good, not caring so much about her reputation, but what it might do to Bonnie’s if another lumber office incident ever happened again–though Scarlett highly doubted it ever would. If Rhett couldn’t separate Ashley from the mills, well, then he would remove her from them instead.

“Concerned, my foot!” Scarlett rose, her face growing red with anger. “How was Ashley going to pay for this?”

Melanie held silent, making one last weak effort to protect her co-conspirator.

“Tell me where Ashley got the money? Tell me!” Scarlett demanded.

“Captain Butler,” Melanie quietly answered as she stared into her lap. She felt like a traitor to both her dearest friend and one of the kindest gentlemen that she had come to know…and worst of all, she was a traitor to her own husband.

“Captain Butler? Captain Butler!” Scarlett growled. “How? Was he to loan Ashley the money?”

Melanie shook her head.

“Give him the money, then!” Scarlett shouted, nearly losing her breath, realizing this was the only other option. “He’d use his own money in order to take the mills away from me? And if I’d never found out, I never would have known that I’d agreed to give away my mills, never making an honest penny from the sale–only to take my husband’s money in return! Name of God! And Ashley accepted this charity?”

“He didn’t know,” Melanie answered in a whisper, her eyes peeking up at the shaking woman before her.

“He didn’t know about where he got the money?” Scarlett asked incredulously.

“He didn’t know that it came from Captain Butler. He didn’t know that Captain Butler wanted you to sell the mills,” Melanie honestly disclosed, continuously shaking her head in shame. “But Captain Butler knew that Ashley was the only person you would consider selling to because you are old friends. He thought…he knew you would sell, but only if it was to Ashley.”

“Damn him!” Scarlett cursed under her breath. “You and my husband were in on this together, keeping Ashley and me in the dark? What a good friend I have; and such a _dear_ husband. What? Did Ashley believe that the money just fell from the sky and into his lap? If only that were true! How long did it take you to convince him to make an offer? Apparently you’re much more persuasive with Ashley than I ever was. I could never get him to do anything I ever wanted,” Scarlett bitterly revealed. “Well, I suppose you and Rhett thought us both utter fools!”

“Scarlett, dearest, please don’t be angry,” Melanie pleaded, grasping at Scarlett’s arm before Scarlett shrugged her off. She paced the length of the room like a caged tiger for what felt like an eternity while Melanie could only follow with her eyes. Scarlett’s movement was helping her fight off a screaming fit that was threatening to emerge from the back of her throat. She wanted to scream out in pain, for she indeed had a physical pain in the pit of her stomach, she had an ache in her chest from the realization of this betrayal. But she knew she had to maintain a semblance of calm in front of this woman who had claimed to be her friend, but was truly one of her greatest foes. After all, she stole the man that Scarlett was supposed to marry. If she, Scarlett, had married Ashley, surely she would not have faced such torture from a husband who had promised to honor her. But she would not allow Melanie to witness a tantrum; Scarlett must uphold her dignity.

She finally halted her pacing, planting herself in front of Melanie with clenched fists.

“I think you should leave,” Scarlett expressed with a steely calm, watching new tears wet Melanie’s handkerchief as she weakly cried. “Tell Ashley that I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to sell the mills. Ashley will not hear anything more about this from me. If you wish to tell him the truth, please do so, but I won’t be the one to reveal your secret,” Scarlett concluded generously, but added, “I’m sure Ashley would forgive you anything, Melly, especially if you tell him you were doing it for me.”

Scarlett watched Melanie carefully, seeing if she had noted her meaning, but was left unsatisfied with Melanie’s continued lack of jealousy or suspicion.

“Though, I suppose in all honesty, you were doing it for Rhett–and for yourself. You and Ashley would be well set up on my husband’s dishonest charity,” she coldly added, causing Melanie to wince while she continued to shake her head in contradiction.

Scarlett sat down next to Melanie, her anger at the woman before her somewhat dissipated, her guilt having grown out of her unkind words.

“I have every right to be angry and you know it, Melanie Wilkes. You lied to me, you who should have come to me and let me know of this plan instead of letting Rhett make a fool out of me. But this wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No. Captain Butler…he…he came to me and…”

“Yes, I know. Rhett started all this. He should have never made you do such a thing, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that you went along with it. It’s shameful, what Rhett did. I suppose _I_ owe you an apology for marrying such a cad. You all warned me about marrying him, but I didn’t listen, stubborn as I was. You were all right and I was wrong. But, if anyone owes you an apology, it’s Rhett. When did he drag you into this?”

Melanie sniffled.

“The day…the day that you left for Tara.”

“Nearly a month of setting everything into place,” Scarlett spoke shakily, her mind distant. She felt dirty, somehow violated, being played in this scheme as she had been. When had she made her decision? Just yesterday? Oh, how Rhett had surely laughed after she’d agreed to the sale, rejoicing in how easy it had been to deceive her, thrilled by the knowledge that she and Ashley would never be alone together again. How had she ever agreed to any of this? And if it hadn’t been for her sudden return home last night, the ink on the documents would now have been dry, her signature evidence of her blindness to Melanie and Rhett’s trickery. Scarlett again turned her eyes to Melanie and nearly cried. Wasn’t there anyone she could trust anymore? Even the saintly Melanie Hamilton Wilkes told lies, and to someone as dear to her as her own husband. No, there was no one left to trust now that her parents were gone. Scarlett felt completely alone.

Scarlett swallowed back her tears and said, “Go home and tell Ashley of my decision. I’m sure he won’t be very disappointed since this had never been his own wish in the first place.” Scarlett rose from the sofa, reaching her hand down for Melanie. “I’ll see you out.”

“I’m so sorry,” Melanie cried as she rose with a burst, flinging her arms around Scarlett, this time not receiving Scarlett’s embrace in return. “You know how much I love you. I only want you to be well and happy and Captain Butler wants the same for you, too.”

“Oh, how blind you are, Melly,” Scarlett thought sadly. “If only you knew how he has always treated me… Then you wouldn’t think he wanted me to be happy.”

“Come along, Melly.” Scarlett stepped out of Melanie’s grip. “Fix yourself up.” Scarlett nodded to a mirror near the closed door. She watched Melanie reluctantly step away to dry her red eyes and pale cheeks and tuck away her straying hair. Scarlett hadn’t witnessed Melanie in such a somber mood since the time during which they had been most uncertain of Ashley’s fate during the war.

“I’d hate for you to be here to witness what is to come,” Scarlett concluded cryptically as they exited the spacious sitting room. “Go home to your family. I’m sure supper is waiting.”

After closing the front door on a broken Melanie Wilkes, Scarlett turned to face the hall, looking as if she were a lioness preparing for a hunt. Her eyes easily caught sight of Rhett lightly jogging down the stairs–how convenient, her prey coming to her.

“I heard that Miss Melly was here,” Rhett said with charming interest.

“She just left,” Scarlett answered coldly, folding her arms across her chest, her green eyes blazing out from slits.

Rhett’s watchful eye took in her seething expression and she knew she was on dangerous ground. After her behavior of last night, Rhett would take anything out of the ordinary as evidence of a problem. Fortunately for her–she realized–her reaction would be nothing out of the ordinary since he’d provoked her to this point many times during their marriage, though she determined that this was definitely the worst of his many offenses. She most definitely would prove to be the same old Scarlett Rhett knew and loved to torment.

“Melly informed me of some very interesting facts about the sale of my mills.”

The lightness behind Rhett’s eyes dimmed at Scarlett’s wrath-tinged words, and for the first time today, she noticed signs of the lack of sleep around those eyes.

“I see you’re concerned, wondering if she told me the truth about your collaboration–your sweet, honest, and good Melanie Wilkes. I know how you admire her loyalty, but I’m sorry to inform you that she wasn’t as loyal to you as you thought she would be. Apparently she loves me more. She told me everything.”

“Scarlett–”

“No!” she shouted, recoiling from the light touch of his hand to her arm. “What? Are you so conceited that you didn’t believe that this would ever come back to me? Did you think I was so _stupid_ that I would never figure it out?”

Rhett opened his mouth to speak, clearly in shock by this most unexpected scene.

“Stop! Don’t say a word,” she interrupted shakily, “I can’t take one more lie!”

He would say that he had done this for her, but that wasn’t the truth. It had everything to do with his reputation and that of their daughter. That was all that was important to him now…that and punishing her. His pride had been hurt, and for that, he must take away almost everything from her that she loved. Ultimately, it was done to keep her and Ashley apart.

“Tell Pork I want my supper sent to my room. I’ll lose my appetite if I have to sit across the table from you,” she stated cruelly, pleased to see Rhett flinch. “I’m not selling, Rhett. Not you or anyone else can make me! And you…you can go to hell for what you tried to do! You…you can go to hell for…for everything!” she shouted, not caring if each and every occupant of the house heard her.

She slipped past him before he could catch the glittering tears pooling in her eyes and bounded up the stairs, gripping her skirts high so as to not trip again like the night before and fall through another wormhole. Where would she end up next, in the wilds of Georgia circa 1731, the land not yet officially the thirteenth colony? That did not seem like a pleasant place to be and she was not about to risk it, though fighting off the Creek or Cherokee Indians might be more preferable than spending another minute with her manipulative, controlling husband.

The slam of her bedroom door signaled that she was done with absolutely everyone for the night.

“Oh, the nerve of that man!” Scarlett growled in a fight against her tears as she paced about the room, tugging at her constricting bodice, wishing to free herself of the dress–a dress she had worn specifically because it was one of Rhett’s favorites. Scarlett immediately mourned the loss of her modern clothing that could easily be shed in mere seconds. When she finally gave up on the tricky buttons between her shoulder blades, Scarlett instead began removing her earrings and brooch, flinging an item on her vanity each time she passed by. As she pulled at the pins holding her compact chignon in place, her engagement ring caught in her hair, and in wild frustration she yanked it from her finger and flung it across the room. Her wedding band followed right behind it.

Scarlett paused before her vanity and pulled the Claddagh ring from her third finger, placing it on her right ring finger in what she thought she remembered as the ‘available’ position. As far as she was concerned, her marriage was null and void. She was through with it all: the lies, the condescension, the cruelty, the deceit, the Caveat Emptoriums, everything!

The sweet smell of the freshly cut rose hung in the air surrounding her and she sourly looked down to it as if it were Rhett himself.

“This is what I think of you,” Scarlett spoke through gritted teeth as she carefully lifted the rose from the vase. Calmly walking over to a window, she leaned out and plucked off the velvety petals one by one and let them flitter and float to the veranda below. When the final petal landed on the gray stone surface, each spot appearing as if it were a drop of blood, Scarlett flung the stem down to join the carnage.

The sound of the opening of her hall door startled her and she lifted her head a little too carelessly, striking it on the window frame.

“God’s nightgown!” she cursed, noting how her lies were becoming a reality.

Prissy had arrived with her supper tray.

“Thank God, it’s you,” Scarlett commented while rubbing the top of her sore head, half of her hair falling straight down her back while some strands still remained stuck in forgotten pins. She immediately gave orders for Prissy to help her undress and then dismissed her for the night.

After only a few bites of her meal, Scarlett set her fork down, having grown nauseous. She pushed the tray away, bitter that she’d had to spend her first supper home, alone and locked inside her room in order to avoid her nemesis, the man who also happened to be her husband. There had been nothing she had anticipated more this day than spending the evening in _her_ dining room with _her_ family.

“Damn him!” she said with steely rage. She placed her hands over her face, unable to retract her tears anymore. Everything Rhett did made her feel weak and defenseless. Scarlett hated to feel so vulnerable. A husband should not treat his wife so insensitively. Charles had never done this to her, nor could she imagine that he ever would have treated her with such disregard. Frank had never… But, yes, he had. Scarlett’s mind was pulled back to the time Frank had taken her horse and buggy and all her stashes of money away from her not long after Ella was born. Scarlett felt now much like she had when she learned of Frank’s actions, though at least he had informed her about what he had done. If she hadn’t discovered Rhett’s scheme on her own, Scarlett knew that Rhett never would have disclosed the truth. Her overall view of marriage was steadily being confirmed; it might be quite fine for men, but not at all good for women, and she wished to God that she had never given it a third try.

There soon came a distant echo in her mind, the sound of Sadie’s voice providing a very clear opinion of Rhett Butler. Rhett _should have_ shown her more respect. His treatment of her was not _OK_. And to think that she had missed him almost more than anyone or anything else in her absence; the thought made Scarlett shiver with disgust. Oh, how stupid she had been to believe there was some goodness in her husband, when all evidence pointed elsewhere. Scarlett was encouraged to repeat her new friend’s crude sentiments from the day of her hair cut; the expression would make her feel so much better than any of the words in her own vocabulary or in that of her father’s regular arsenal.

“Fuck him,” she began quietly, nervous to speak such words. Then she fiercely pounded her fist into the cushion of the settee and her voice grew in boldness. “Fuck him!” she repeated clearly, probably making her father very proud from the heavens.

Yes, it did make her feel better. It made her feel stronger. It made her feel powerful.

Rhett wouldn’t ruin her. He wouldn’t take away her newfound love of life. He would not take away Bonnie’s love from her. And he most certainly would not take away her mills, as much her children as Wade, Ella, or Bonnie were, if not more. If the war and poverty had not destroyed her, a man like Rhett Butler did not have a chance. Scarlett pulled her supper tray toward her, suddenly quite hungry for the chicken and rice and gravy and fresh beans and her favorite lemon pie. No, Rhett Butler would not take away her appetite, either.

Several minutes later, Scarlett lifted her eyes to the door after hearing a knock.

“Miss Scarlett?”

“Come in, Mammy,” she said thankfully after hearing the familiar voice. At least it hadn’t been her no-good husband.

Mammy lumbered over to where Scarlett was sitting and appeared hesitant to speak; but Scarlett seemed to be in a better mood now as compared to how Prissy had described their mistress a short time ago, when words such as “crazy” and “mad woman” had been used. A second fight had erupted between their master and mistress in less than twenty-four hours, something the servants had hoped would be absent from this house for a long while–considering what had happened the last time there had been a major quarrel. And Scarlett’s mood after these disputes was nothing any of the servants ever wanted to handle.

“Miss Scarlett, the children are havin’ their supper in the playroom.”

“In the playroom?” Scarlett asked, holding her rice-filled fork in mid-air.

“Pork says Mist’ Rhett sat at the table with the children for but a minute, then got up and said he was goin’ to go out. He didn’t take no supper so I decided the children could have supper up here instead of sittin’ at that big table alone. I was thinkin’ maybe you’d want to join them,” Mammy suggested anxiously. “Pork’ll bring you coffee for to go with your pie.”

The tension immediately fell from Scarlett’s shoulders and they lowered involuntarily. She couldn’t tell if she was feeling relief for knowing that Rhett was away from the house or gratefulness that Mammy had realized that she’d been lonely and wished for company. Supper with her children could be a trying experience for Scarlett on most days, as she struggled with their chattering after a long day, which would inevitably lead to a headache, but tonight, if only for tonight, she welcomed it. She didn’t want to be alone.

Scarlett quickly rose from her seat, lifting the tray with her.

“Yes, tell Pork to bring my coffee,” Scarlett said as she made her way out into the hall, followed by a very pleasantly surprised Mammy.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Scarlett asked while entering the playroom, catching three sets of young eyes on her, the most surprised being those of her son. Scarlett set her plates down on the table in the spot Prissy was occupying while assisting Bonnie with her meal, and Scarlett uncharacteristically leaned down to her left to kiss the top of her son’s head with a casual air, as if she had done this every night since the day he was born, not waiting to observe Wade’s eyes rising to her in wonder. “I’m nearly finished with my supper, but I’ll wait for you and then we can all have dessert together,” Scarlett said with a smile, taking over the chair that Prissy had surrendered and dismissing Prissy temporarily so she, herself, could help with Bonnie’s food, should her blue-eyed daughter need it.

Scarlett caressed Bonnie’s curls for a moment, happy to see that her arrival had brought a warm smile to her daughter’s face. But she also noticed that Wade and Ella’s chatting had cooled since she had entered the room, and Scarlett forced away a slight frown, saddened that her older children did not feel as comfortable around her as they did Prissy. Recalling the sight of Wade fearfully peeking out of the library when she had escaped Rhett’s presence a short time ago, Scarlett knew he had been disturbed by what he had witnessed. She’d never thought before about the worries of her children when it came to the difficulties between their parents, but they had been witness to such scenes on a fairly regular basis. Despite her typical inattention, she truly wanted nothing more than for her children to know only happiness. Apparently, she had done a poor job of it up to this point. Had she owed them some explanation about her domestic struggles with their father in order to ease their anxiety? She wasn’t at all prepared to tackle that challenge now.

Instead, Scarlett took to asking her children simple questions about their day while she finished her supper, hoping the inquiries would spark small discussions so she could just sit back and observe their interaction. That was really all she had wanted to do tonight: watch her children, see them smile, know that they were well, and know that they were alive and breathing the same air as she. Her children might be the only people left in her life who would not cruelly lie to her. They had their mother back, she hadn’t abandoned them, and she wanted to make sure that they knew it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice that there is Margaret Mitchell dialogue at the start of this chapter, and one line from Rhett toward the end. Other than that, enjoy!

 Part Two

 

Chapter 15

 

_“The honorable Ashley was over here last night. He wanted to know if I thought you would sell him your mill and the part interest you have in his.”_

_"He wants to buy me out?”_

_'Yes. But of course, I told him you wouldn't sell.”_

_"I wish you'd let me mind my own business.”_

_“Well, you know you wouldn't part with the mills. I told him that he knew as well as I did that you couldn't bear not to have your finger in everybody's pie, and if you sold out to him, then you wouldn't be able to tell him how to mind his own business.”_

_“You dared say that to him about me?”_

_“Why not? It's true, isn't it? I believe he heartily agreed with me but, of course, he was too much of a gentleman to come right out and say so.”_

_“It's a lie! I will sell them to him! I will sell! Now, what do you think of that?”_

_“I think you'll regret it.”_

_“Did you have anything to do with this?”_

_“I? You should know me better. I never go about the world doing good deeds if I can avoid it.”_

 

“No!” Scarlett shouted, waking to the black darkness of the night. The room was still, the only sound being Scarlett’s rapid heart beat thumping in her ears. Having been jolted awake from a very deep slumber, the grogginess she felt was overwhelmingly heavy and disorienting.

“Rhett!” she growled in a whisper, pulling herself up to lean her back against the solid headboard. “You’re right, it wasn’t a good deed, you lying, deceitful cad,” she huffed, kicking the hot blanket from her legs. Scarlett could still see Rhett’s mocking eyes, gleaming with triumph, as if he were sitting right in front of her. Yesterday’s events had apparently led to a nightmare about her unwise decision and had given her a very clear image of the sort of manipulation her husband would have employed to talk her into this sale. “So stupid,” Scarlett derided herself grinding the palm of her hand into her forehead. She was nearly as angry with herself as she was with him over her rash decision-making. He obviously hadn’t forced her to make the choice, though he had played his hand perfectly. Well, she wouldn’t let that happen again.

“Daddy!” Scarlett heard Bonnie cry out loudly into the calm.

Scarlett thought Rhett had finally returned home in the middle of the night, but when she heard Bonnie cry further, now obviously frightful tears, Scarlett knew he was still absent and she alighted from her warm bed hastily.

When she reached Bonnie, her daughter was sitting up, her eyes focused on the empty bed next to her, her cheeks coated with wet tears. Scarlett fumed at the sight. While she, herself, was perfectly happy that Rhett had decided to stay away to escape her wrath, she knew that it was wrong of him to abandon Bonnie, knowing how fearful she could be when her father wasn’t around during the dark hours.

“Bonnie, baby, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” Scarlett asked, bracing her daughter with both hands.

Bonnie shook her head.

“What is it?”

“Someone yelled.”

“When?”

“Now. And Daddy’s gone!” Bonnie cried, the faucet on her fountain of tears again opening wide.

“Oh,” Scarlett sighed guiltily and drew Bonnie closer in an attempt to soothe her. “I think you heard me. I must have shouted when I awoke. I’m sorry for frightening you, but Mother was having a bad dream.”

“Was it…a ghost?” Bonnie whispered into her mother’s shoulder, hoping the creatures of the night would not hear the question and pounce her.

“No, it wasn’t about a ghost. And you know ghosts and goblins and those sort of creatures aren’t real, darling,” Scarlett added, continuing to make attempts to draw Bonnie away from her irrational fears. Why Rhett felt it necessary to humor Bonnie on this and undo all her work, Scarlett would never understand. “A very nasty person is what upset me in my dream.”

“Nasty?”

Scarlett pulled back so she could see Bonnie’s face, and nodded her head.

“He’s not very nice to me in life or in dreams.”

After that statement, Scarlett began to wonder if it had only been a dream or if it could have been exactly how the scene had played out when Rhett _helped_ her make her decision about the sale of the mills.

“Bonnie?” Scarlett asked. “Were you and Father and I sitting together on the front porch, recently? Did Father have some feathers in his hat? Did you have blue paint on your face?” she asked, thinking the questions most absurd, though the odd images were now burned into her memory.

Bonnie nodded.

“We were playing Indian,” Bonnie explained, gently stroking her mother’s silky braid.

“When?”

“Before the train.”

“What train?”

“For you.”

“Had I been at Tara? Was I coming home with your brother and your sister?”

Bonnie nodded.

“Were Father and I speaking of the mills and of Uncle Ashley that day?”

Bonnie again nodded, becoming bored with this conversation, though not of her mother’s secure arms, and she snuggled close to Scarlett’s breast.

“Do you remember me saying that I’d sell the mills to Uncle Ashley?”

“Yes.”

So, that was it. The scene had not been conjured up by her imagination. Her dream was a faithful retelling of an event for which she had not been present. How strange to have a memory of a moment that occurred while she was probably having her hair styled at _Evolve_ _Salon_ in 2011 in preparation for the grand opening. Scarlett continued to pet Bonnie’s soft curls absentmindedly, again realizing, with great relief, that she had returned home just in time to impede Rhett’s stratagem. It had been a grave mistake on his part, for if he had truly wanted her to rid herself of the lumber business, his plot had now had the opposite effect. From this point forward, she would stubbornly cling to the mills if only to antagonize her husband.

The weight of Bonnie’s small body began to lean more and more heavily into Scarlett’s frame, so she bent forward to straighten out Bonnie’s bed sheet and guide her body down to the mattress, aiming her head for the pillow.

“No, don’t go,” Bonnie requested sleepily, reaching up to her mother as Scarlett pulled away. “Daddy’s gone.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Scarlett responded while gently dabbing Bonnie’s cheeks dry with a corner of the bed sheet.

“Promise?”

“Well, we never know with your father, do we?” Scarlett grumbled with resentment. “Be a fine little lady, Bonnie, and go to sleep. I’m sure Father would be proud to see that you were brave enough to be in this big room without him,” she encouraged, before giving Bonnie a peck on her forehead. Scarlett voiced surprise as she noticed some movement on the other side of the bed. She walked over and looked down at a tiny ball of fur, striped and gray, looking up to her with large pale eyes.

“The kitten…from your grandma,” Scarlett recalled from that terrible day two months ago. “Did you name him yet?” Scarlett asked, noting the plush basket that had been provided for him and an old rusty baking pan that had been filled with sand and placed discretely in a corner under a table. She had not noticed the accommodations the night before. Scarlett noiselessly chuckled, thinking Rhett would never have allowed such articles in his room, but for Bonnie.

“You forgot?” Bonnie asked with a yawn, remembering introducing the kitten to her after her mother had recovered from her illness. “He’s Blackbeard.”

“Blackbeard?” Scarlett laughed, noting that there was a slightly darker patch of fur on the kitten’s chin. “Pirates…” Scarlett sighed and shook her head. “I suppose your father had something to do with the name? Well, with Blackbeard here to protect you, you should rest without fear. No one bad would dare to come near you. You’ll protect Bonnie, won’t you?” Scarlett asked, crouching down to scratch the fur of the small creature and then leaned over to kiss Bonnie’s cheek. “Go to sleep.”

Scarlett made her way over to the bedside table to ensure that there was enough oil in the lamp to last the rest of the night. By the time she turned back around to check on her daughter, Bonnie already appeared to have fallen into a deep slumber.

 

*              *              *

                       

Cooler mornings were sweeping into Atlanta by mid-September, a sign that fall was not far up the road. On this Sunday morning, most female churchgoers had thought to bring a shawl with them for the journey to their place of worship and gentlemen wore slightly warmer coats, which needed to be dusted off or laundered after being boxed away during the long, sweltering summer. Though, by the end of services, the sun had reintroduced the warmth of a pleasant summer day and had made those additional layers and thicker fabrics most unnecessary.

It was much the same experience for the Wilkes family, Melanie toting her gray knit shawl in her hand and Ashley proceeding with his coat casually unbuttoned as they walked toward their home on Ivy Street after services at St. Philip’s that morning. Occasionally, they might receive a ride home with Rhett and Wade, if they had happened to attend services that week, but usually Uncle Peter would provide them with transportation to and from the church. Normally, Melanie would look forward to the drive past the Butler home, hoping to catch sight of Scarlett or her nephew in the yard or on the front porch, so they could alight from the carriage and have a Sunday visit. However, today, Melanie had insisted that Uncle Peter stop the carriage near First Methodist, with the excuse that it was a lovely day and that she desired to walk the rest of the way home with Ashley and Beau.

Instead of continuing up Peachtree Street, Melanie immediately suggested that they cut over on Houston to reach Ivy, avoiding Peachtree almost all together. Beau had not understood his mother’s somber shakiness that morning or her rare distress the evening before, but knew it had something to do with why they were not to pass by his aunt Scarlett’s house on this particular day. After politely asking if he could go on his own to see his cousin since his parents obviously had planned on avoiding the mansion on Peachtree Street, his mother and father granted him permission. Melanie thought that surely Scarlett would not slam the door on her own nephew, the boy that Scarlett helped bring into this world. It was only she, Melanie, that Scarlett could not bear to see right now. Throughout the service that morning, Melanie had sat in silent prayer, begging God for His forgiveness and asking that He bring Scarlett to forgive her, too, someday. Her greatest blessing was that Ashley had immediately absolved her of blame in the whole debacle when she made her tear-filled confession yesterday evening.

While greeting neighbors along Ivy and nearing their small flat-roofed home, Ashley first spotted Rhett Butler slowly approaching them from the north on his large black steed. From a distance, Rhett appeared ever the dandy, but as they drew nearer to one another, Ashley spotted the slight wrinkle to his gray trousers and coat and noted fatigue in his normally jeering expression. If he guessed correctly, Rhett Butler had been drinking in excess the night before. Once Melanie spotted him, she grasped Ashley’s arm tightly, relaying her fears. She felt so much better having her husband by her side when faced with such a large and vital man. And if Captain Butler had been displeased with her for revealing the truth to Scarlett, well, she didn’t know how he would behave once in her presence.

“Miss Melly. Mr. Wilkes,” Rhett greeted in front of their home, removing his wide Panama hat. He seemed hesitant, almost sick to be in their presence, but forced a pleasant smile. “It appears to be a fine morning.”

Ashley and Melanie stood, looking up at the towering gentleman, but did not speak.

“Miss Melly. I was hoping to have a word with you. I’m sure you can guess that it concerns what happened yesterday with Scarlett.”

Melanie nodded subtly, unable to meet the swarthy man’s eyes.

“If my presence is unwelcome, please be frank.”

“Rhett, I think it would be best if you left my wife alone from this point forward. Haven’t your actions already hurt her enough and caused damage to her dearest friendship?”

Rhett directed his eyes downward with genuine guilt and shame.

“Captain Butler?” Melanie’s quiet, tender voice spoke. Her ire had immediately turned to pity when viewing the broken man before her, just as it had almost two months ago when Scarlett’s life hung in the balance.

“Melly,” Ashley reacted with frustration, gripping her hand tightly, knowing how easily Rhett Butler could manipulate his innocent and trusting wife.

Melanie looked on her husband with pleading eyes, wanting him to understand why she needed to continue her conversation with this blackguard, but she allowed him to keep his firm hold on her.

Rhett dismounted, preparing to speak with Melanie face-to-face.

“Captain Butler,” she started before taking a deep breath. “If you have anything you need to say, please do so now. I have informed my husband about this matter and he has graciously forgiven me. Whatever you need to say to me can be said in my husband’s presence.”

Rhett’s bitter eyes briefly scanned Ashley’s stony face for confirmation, perhaps wondering why it was so easy for Melanie Wilkes to be honest with her husband when Ashley was comfortable hiding such immoral secrets about his relationship with Scarlett from his wife. Considering that all of his adulterous crimes had gone unpunished, Ashley owed Melanie forgiveness for absolutely anything. Clearly, Rhett Butler had hoped to speak with Melanie privately, but he proceeded despite Ashley’s presence.

“I’m here to offer my apology, Miss Melly. The whole matter was entirely my fault,” Rhett began, focusing his sincere, repentant eyes on her. “Please, don’t blame yourself…as I know you are. I should never have asked for your assistance; it was wrong of me to do. I should never have used you in this manner–you who are the kindest person I have ever known–and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for involving you. I’ll make sure that Scarlett understands your innocence in all of this.”

Melanie caught the torment in his eyes as he quietly spoke, and believed that Rhett deeply regretted the entire experience, though his apology had not completely absolved him from the anger she harbored over the injury done to Scarlett. She still trusted that Rhett had had Scarlett’s best interest at heart, but it was wrong of him to go about this clandestinely and she could see that very clearly now.

“Rhett,” Ashley spoke. “It was a cruel trick to play on Scarlett, and I need not remind you that it is not the first you’ve attempted,” Ashley voiced courageously, gaining the supplemental nerve from his wife. “I’ve kept out of your quarrels, as it is not my place…but now that you’ve involved my wife and me– Scarlett is a dear friend and she deserves so much b–”

“Captain Butler,” Melanie interrupted while giving a squeeze to Ashley’s hand, hoping to quell any possible argument that might arise between the two gentlemen. She loved her husband dearly, but even she knew who would win in a physical fight or duel between the two men. “What Ashley is meaning to say is that you needn’t waste any more time apologizing to us if you haven’t yet spoken with Scarlett. It is she that has been injured most. I’ve apologized to my husband and you need to do the same with Scarlett if you haven’t already, and pray that she forgives us both someday.”

“Rhett. I will return the money to you in full by tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Ashley announced.

“No. Keep it,” Rhett started sullenly before looking to Melanie. “Save it for Beau’s education.”

“We can’t keep it,” Ashley countered proudly.

“I promised your wife that if you purchased the mills, Beau would have everything that you’d ever wanted for him. While the amount is not near to what you could have earned with the mills, think of it as the start to a savings. I don’t want the money back. Please, keep it for Beau,” said Rhett, leaving the Wilkeses speechless. “I’ve said what I needed to say. I won’t take up any more of your time, Miss Melly.”

He swung himself up to his mount and secured his hat over his dark head of hair.

“Rhett?” Ashley spoke again. “You have not yet disclosed your motive. I think you at least owe us an explanation for this tangled web of deception that you made us a part of.”

“It was for Scarlett. For her health,” Melanie answered for Rhett, confused over her husband’s request when she had told him everything the night before.

“Mr. Wilkes, I don’t believe you do need an explanation. The answer should be plainly obvious to you.” Rhett paused to allow for his comment to sink in. “I apologize for causing this interference in your marriage, Mr. Wilkes; it was a most ungentlemanly act on my part. Good day.”

Rhett then tipped his cap and soberly directed his horse south on Ivy.

 

*             *              *

 

Despite the fitful sleep she experienced the night before, Scarlett rose fairly early for a Sunday morning, eager to finally take a look at the ledger from Ashley’s mill and also see how business had been at her store. Scarlett had her coffee brought into her office adjacent to the library and pulled the mill’s heavy account book out from under the walnut ledger table. Thankfully, it appeared that there had not been too many errors in the last two months, though she noted the dark scratches in Rhett’s hand where he had made corrections. Typically, there were more mistakes that needed to be addressed and Scarlett decided that Ashley’s mind must have been more focused during her absence. But overall, business had been steady throughout July, August, and into September, and at least Ashley’s mill hadn’t lost money since she had been away; Scarlett could only be pleased considering the recent circumstances for her absence.

From time to time, Scarlett would look up from her desk and catch Wade watching her through the open door from a chair in the library. He had jumped up as she’d entered the room earlier and excused himself immediately, but Scarlett insisted that he stay and assured him that his silent reading would not be a bother to her. Scarlett felt an unexpected need to have family members or servants in sight throughout most of the day as she made the transition back to her life in 1871, and she now realized that this had been Wade’s sanctuary from the difficulties in this home. She and Wade both seemed to be keeping an eye on one another to make sure each was well and at peace, though that was not quite the case for either. Scarlett knew Wade’s thoughts were still turning to what he had witnessed the previous two days between his mother and Rhett, and wondering, like all of her children, where their father was on this Sunday morning. She still did not quite know how to explain her husband’s actions to herself, let alone to her curious boy.

The sound of a bell, signaling a visitor at the front door, interrupted the pensive smile that Scarlett wore as she watched Wade struggling to concentrate on the paragraphs of a book surely beyond his grasp.

“Mast’ Wade. Mast’ Beau is here to see you,” Pork introduced at the door of the library, allowing Beau to step into the room.

Scarlett stood immediately, bypassing her desk in order to greet her nephew-by- marriage–a boy she had held when he took his very first breaths. Of all the children she had known–including her own–Beau was the one whose company she had enjoyed the most.

“Beau Wilkes, you handsome young man,” Scarlett greeted, swishing her fingers through his blond curls. “I’m so glad to see you. My, how you’ve grown! How old are you now, anyway? Much too old to sit on my lap anymore,” she teased.

“Seven, Aunt Scarlett,” Beau answered proudly.

“Oh, and I missed your birthday!” Scarlett realized with a bite to her lower lip.

“Thank you for the map book, Aunt Scarlett.”

So, her other self had remembered to send Beau a gift in her absence? At least she had been good for something.

“You’re very welcome,” she answered, giving Beau a quick squeeze. “Since I was at Tara during your birthday, I’m going to have you over for a celebratory supper one of these days,” Scarlett said, before realizing that it also meant giving an invitation to Melanie and Ashley. She wasn’t sure she was ready to spend any great length of time with Melanie after her disloyalty, nor was she ready to see Ashley again, knowing how embarrassed she would feel about how both of them were tricked by their respective spouses.

“Thank you, Aunt Scarlett!” Beau beamed. “Can we have chocolate cake?”

“You can have whatever you want. It’s _your_ birthday we’ll be celebrating.”

Scarlett placed her hand on Wade’s upper back as he stood next to her, giving him her silent permission to join Beau in whatever activity they chose. She wouldn’t insist that they remain in the library.

“Come on,” Wade ordered as he exited the room, with Beau trailing obediently behind him.

Scarlett was grateful that they had chosen to amuse themselves elsewhere so that she could start on the ledger for _Kennedy’s General Store_ in peace. She headed back to her office, her soft violet skirt swishing past the desk, and she replaced Ashley’s ledger and drew out the ledger for the store. It appeared that Rhett had been more proactive than she had expected, which surprised her because he took so little interest in her store. But page after page were in his script and not that of her senior counter boy, Willie. Scarlett would have trusted Willie to manage the store without her for a short time, but apparently Rhett had preferred to ensure that there were no mistakes and must have visited _Kennedy’s_ at the end of each business day to compare notes with Willie.

After nearing the last pages of entries, Scarlett had given up doing the math in her head, knowing that Rhett had made no errors. She was ready to trade this ledger for that of Johnnie Gallegher’s mill when she heard commotion upstairs and knew it could only mean one thing; Rhett was home. Surely the squeals of delight had come from Bonnie and Ella, happy that their father had not disappeared for more than one night.

Scarlett sighed.

What was she going to do? How was she to face him? She clenched her fists, already angry with herself for being so pleased with him over how he had handled the management of her businesses while she had been gone. He hadn’t deserved even her silent praise, yet she let it flow so easily as she went through her books. Scarlett wished she would never have to see him again. Though, at that thought, she wished to withdraw her impetuous sentiments, realizing what a dangerous and likely idea it truly was. Just a few days ago, she thought she’d never see this time again. Just a few days ago, she thought she’d never again see the family that she had yearned to rejoin. Unfortunately, when it came to Rhett, there had always been a very fine line between appreciation and hate. If she hadn’t discovered his treachery, she knew she would still be ever so glad to see him each day forward; but now that his callousness had shown itself to be as alive as ever, Scarlett didn’t know if she could bear his presence anymore.     

Scarlett stared out into the library, remembering Wade’s anxious, secret glances. No, it would not benefit this family for her to launch into a lengthy sulking or tantrum-filled war with her husband. Whenever she did that, Rhett would run away with one of her children in tow for weeks or months–first Wade, then Bonnie; from now on, it would always be Bonnie. No, Scarlett would not let that happen again. She decided it would be very nice if she could watch her daughter grow up in this house instead of only knowing of her daughter’s life in Charleston–or wherever else Rhett decided to travel with her–through letters. Scarlett was certain that the next time he took Bonnie away, it would be for longer than three months, and even that length of time had been most unbearable. She had to be practical. Her family was going to stay together, she resolved with the nod of her head, even if that meant she had to tolerate Rhett from this day forward.

In her musings, Scarlett had not heard the light, hesitant footsteps on the staircase that grew louder as they neared the library. When Rhett came into view, Scarlett immediately drew her eyes back to the store’s ledger, which was splayed out on her desk, pretending to not have seen him–though it was obvious that she had and so she spoke when he finally approached her office door.

“You’re still among the living, I see.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Rhett responded calmly to her cold statement.

“Oh,” Scarlett began with a sigh, pretending to add some figures on the page, “well, I’d hate for the children to be left fatherless, that’s all.” Scarlett spoke in a manner that hinted that it didn’t matter to her personally if he were alive or dead. “Though, you make it so fairly often, don’t you?

Rhett ignored her icy barb.

“Bonnie tells me you came to her rescue last night.”

Scarlett could only nod, afraid that if she said anything on the subject, her anger would surely come through in her words. She knew not to expect an apology from him today, for he had neither flowers nor chocolates with him to buy her forgiveness, which was his modus operandi. Even if he gifted her the entire land and property of Versailles, she would not be ready to forgive–though it would have helped.

“She said you were having an unsettling dream,” Rhett continued. “Was it like all your others?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she airily began. “This time I could clearly see the dreadful creature that’s been trying to hinder me,” Scarlett replied cryptically, precisely placing her pencil on the surface of her desk. “Have you come to pester me with something?” she asked grumpily, finally raising her pale eyes to his dark ones, only to note the lack of vitality in them. He looked tired and apprehensive behind his ever-so-present mask.

“May I?” Rhett asked, gesturing to the chair opposite hers.

“Do what you please. You always do, anyway,” Scarlett added, biting her tongue to remind herself to keep this civil.

“You must have been thankful for the time with Bonnie?” he commented as he lowered his arresting body gracefully onto the chair and leaned back casually. “After all, it’s been what, nearly five months since you last saw her?” His eyebrows lifted. “That is what you claimed, isn’t it?”

Scarlett could only stare blankly at her husband in reply, though her eyes narrowed slightly in irritation at his incessant fishing for the truth. She was sure any words would only lead to further inquiry. But as Rhett’s alert eyes continued to examine her, Scarlett decided to ignore his latter comment and briefly address the former.

“I’m always glad to spend time with Bonnie. Now, why are you here?”

Rhett lightly chuckled at Scarlett’s blunt attempt to change the subject.

“I see you’re examining the ledgers. Have you found them in good order?” he asked.

Scarlett’s toes began to nervously twitch in her modern ballet flats, but she tried to maintain a calm throughout the rest of her body. She was uncertain in Rhett’s company, and still mighty angry. The heat of the cramped room was made all the worse by her anxiety and Scarlett shot up from her chair to raise the northern window from a small crack to a width that she could easily climb through without crushing even her largest bustle, then she swung through the door that led out to the veranda and hooked it wide open. Part of her desired to continue walking out into the yard and leave Rhett abandoned in the office. What she wouldn’t do for an electric fan to place on her desk at this moment; the breeze could cool her face and the sound might even drown out whatever nonsense that Rhett had wished to speak.

“Is everything up to your standards?” Rhett asked, rephrasing his earlier question while pulling a cigar from his pocket case and keeping his eyes locked on her form as she reentered the room.

 “Yes, surprisingly so.”

Rhett dragged the ashtray over from the corner of the desk, where he had left it the day before, then lit the cigar.

“In what way?” he asked through a puff of smoke.

“Hmm?” Scarlett responded as she took her seat, lost and completely unprepared for this meeting. The smell of the cigar had drawn her mind peacefully back to the reasons why she had wanted to return home, but she crushed the thought and tried to maintain her focus. Those reasons had become invalid during Melanie’s visit the previous afternoon.

“In what way are you surprised about what you found in your books?”

Scarlett lifted her coffee cup and took a sip, only to find that her beverage had cooled to a temperature that she found unsatisfactory; she grimaced and set her cup back on its saucer.

“I find it strange that you put so much effort into the mill’s ledger when you had planned on ridding me of my responsibilities the minute I returned home. Why wouldn’t you have left it for Ashley to correct?” Scarlett asked calmly.

“I was sure you would have insisted that everything be in order before the mills changed hands. In fact you did insist, earlier that day, before the papers were drawn,” Rhett recalled. “Or have you forgotten that, too?”

Scarlett observed his raised eyebrows and drew her attention downward, knowing he was continuing to entertain questions about her memory.

“I think I woke before reaching that scene,” Scarlett replied smartly, referencing her dream.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” she answered lightly, her green eyes smiling while dismissing his confusion. Scarlett was finding it nice to keep him on guard with her puzzling comments. At least she felt she had some power in this relationship, if only for the moment.

Scarlett rested her folded hands across the store’s open ledger and leaned forward.

“Was there something in particular you wished to discuss with me, or were you merely checking on my satisfaction with your bookkeeping abilities?”

She watched Rhett draw from his cigar before his eyes fell to her linked fingers.

“I notice that you have a new ring.”

“Oh, yes, isn’t it lovely?” Scarlett asked cheerfully, splaying out her hand on the thick ledger before him so he could get a better look and so he could notice–though she was sure he already had from the moment he walked into the room–that she was no longer wearing her engagement ring. Scarlett also rested her unadorned left hand behind her right wrist. “It’s called a Claddagh ring. It’s a tradition from Ireland.”

“Of course it is,” Rhett answered dully, as was always the case whenever the subject turned to Ireland. “And where did you come in possession of such a ring?”

“Some dear, dear friends of mine gifted it to me,” Scarlett answered proudly, centering the ring that easily rotated on her finger; she would need to find a small piece of yarn to tie to the back of it in order for it to sit properly on that finger.

She knew her answer would lead to the expression now written on Rhett’s face–one of doubt–but, happily, it was the absolute truth. She did have good friends now. Unfortunately, they happened to be in another time.

“And who, may I ask, are these _dear, dear friends_?” he asked suspiciously.

“Oh, you don’t know them, I’m sure,” Scarlett answered, withdrawing her hand.

“Oh, I might,” Rhett countered.

“All right… Do you know the Nolan family of Savannah?” Scarlett asked, choosing the name that first came to mind–the person who first presented the ring to her.

“I can’t say that I do,” Rhett answered, leaning back into his chair and taking another draw from his cigar, his eyes concentrating on her hand where her wedding band should have been.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Scarlett replied, “See.” She then returned her focus to the Claddagh ring with affection, and ran her thumb across the hands, heart, and crown. At least someone had appreciated her and had treated her with respect.

“I assumed you’d been at Tara this whole time, but you made a clandestine trip to Savannah?”

“Savannah? What do you mean?”

“The _Nolans_ _of Savannah_?”

“Oh, that…” Scarlett began, realizing he was wondering _when_ the ring was gifted to her. She thought up a logical scenario fairly quickly. “No, I found the ring at Tara during my visit. It was hidden inside a secret compartment in Mother’s secretary. I can’t quite remember how it got there, but at least the Yankees didn’t find it during one of their many friendly visits,” Scarlett said in an almost accusatory manner, as if Rhett had given them directions to Tara himself. “I’ve had the ring since I was fifteen, but clearly I misplaced it for several years, as you’ve never seen it. The Nolans were good friends to my O’Hara family in Savannah and good friends to me when I visited.”

Scarlett fought from smiling too broadly, experiencing a rare success in her ability to lie. Her mind seemed to be working on a higher level since she had returned. Even if Rhett didn’t believe her, at least she had sounded authentically candid.

“You never answered me, Rhett. Why are you here interrupting me at a most inconvenient time?”

Rhett’s eyes trailed around the tranquil room before shifting his body to glance behind him into the library and next looked to the open door along the veranda, as if searching for a long line of visitors that might be waiting for audience with one of Atlanta’s most successful businesswomen.

“Inconvenient?” Rhett asked with raised eyebrows.

“ _Most_ inconvenient.”

Scarlett immediately tilted her head forward when she felt an upward tug at the corners of her mouth sparked by his droll expression and her own words. Oh, why did he always do this to her? He always had the ability to melt her icy armor with the smallest of words or actions. And while still exceedingly angry, Scarlett had instantly felt a bizarre urge to flirt with him!

“Guard yourself, you fool! He’d cut your hand off if you offered him your wrist,” Scarlett internally scolded herself. She wanted to scream out in frustration.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to _inconvenience_ you. I do apologize for the disruption, but I thought you might want some clarification on the entries for the store. I knew you would be going over the books soon. I thought I might stop in to see if you had any more questions for me since your return.”

No, it was clear that an apology was the last thing on Rhett Butler’s mind. Scarlett’s mood shifted once more.

“You are ever so _kind_ , but I’m progressing perfectly fine on my own. You’re certainly free to go,” Scarlett announced, again drawing her attention away from him, this time to hide her disappointment. Rhett was the best she had ever seen at ignoring major events in one’s life, as if the unpleasantness–or in at least one case, the pleasantness–had never happened. Scarlett lifted a simple, cream-colored silk fan from the corner of her desk, having the intense desire to bring a breeze to her hot face, and waved it near her soon-to-be perspiring skin. She was beginning to boil with anger at how lightly he seemed to take yesterday’s discovery. He had done a terrible thing to her, and yet he acted as if he was barely aware of the event and had had no part in the planning of it all. With her focus on the pages before her–and Rhett’s clearly remaining on her–she said with agitation, “I said you were free to go, Rhett. I’m sure there is nothing more you will be able to offer me now.”

Scarlett heard Rhett slowly rise from the chair, but still did not allow herself to look in his direction. In a short moment, she would be free of him, thankfully. But just as her hopes reached their summit, Scarlett realized that Rhett remained planted on the spot, and the foot that she had resting on the back of the opposite ankle began to shake in frustration and nervousness. Was he going to stand and stare at her for the rest of the morning? Well, if he wasn’t going to leave, she would.

When Scarlett slammed down her fan and pushed herself up and away from her desk, preparing to make her exit, Rhett quickly spoke.

“I saw Miss Melly this morning.”

“Ah, your accomplice,” Scarlett interjected with cool derision, her icy eyes boring into Rhett’s.

“No, not my accomplice.”

“If she’s not your accomplice, what is she?” Scarlett asked, her voice revealing more anger than she had desired.

“She was an innocent victim deceived by the devil himself, as I’m sure you would agree…once you are able to calm yourself.”

“I am calm!” Scarlett exclaimed in a manner that showed she was in fact the opposite.

“Far be it from me to judge your condition,” Rhett responded, a flicker of a light returning to his eyes.

Scarlett frowned and folded her arms across her stomach, angry with herself for being unable to check her temper for long. In her success, she found she had Rhett somewhat flustered, on unstable ground. But, now that she had shown her true, tempestuous emotions, he knew how to handle her better.

“Well, if you’ve come to speak to me about Melanie Wilkes, I’m not interested,” Scarlett finally replied. “She was a fool to take up with the likes of you–the devil indeed– and I have no patience for either one of you. I’m keeping the mills,” Scarlett confirmed once again.

Rhett chuckled lightly, then rested his cigar in the ashtray.

“Do you think this is funny?” Scarlett asked incredulously, the fire inside her rising to her cheeks.

“What I think is funny is your insane obstinacy that makes you hold on like a bulldog to anything you think you want.”

“Think I want? No, I can assure you, Rhett Butler. I know I want the lumber business, now more than ever.”

“Out of spite,” Rhett guessed astutely.

“You see how your plan has failed?”

“I do see that.”

“I thought you were a smart man. Did you not imagine that I might find out about what you had been up to? Your conceit has betrayed you,” Scarlett announced with a smug grin and an air of superiority.

“And nothing could please you more.”

“Not at this moment, no.”

Scarlett stepped to the side of her desk, intent on escaping the stifling room, but her husband spoke once more and Scarlett froze in place.

“Miss Melly should not be held responsible for–”

“Oh, shouldn’t she?” Scarlett interrupted. “She’s a liar, just the same as you. Is she the true reason why you’re here? Are you doing Melly’s bidding for her, now? If she wants to beg for my forgiveness, tell her she’d be wise not to use you for the task. If she wants my forgiveness, she’ll have to ask for it herself.”

Scarlett squared her shoulders and lifted her chin before exiting the small office and forced herself not to storm through the library. How could Rhett come to her and request that she grant pardon to Melanie Wilkes for her role in this treachery and not first apologize himself for being the mastermind of this most devious plan? Scarlett wanted to cry over her thoughts of a few nights ago before the grand opening, when she was certain that she meant _something_ to him–not that she remembered why that had been so important to her that night. If Rhett cared, he would have said ‘I’m sorry’ for so many things. When Scarlett reached her room, she let out a brief sob, but muffled anything further with the palm of her hand. How she wished that Rhett held her in the same high regard as he had Melanie Wilkes. It seemed as if he would do anything for Atlanta’s most estimable woman, including coming to her defense when she had clearly been in the wrong, but when it came to his own wife, well...it seemed he would do just about anything to undermine her.

As she paced the bedroom, Scarlett noticed her wedding and engagement rings resting at the top of her jewelry box and slammed the cover down violently so her eyes wouldn’t have to be burned by them each time she passed by her vanity. Why couldn’t she have married someone like Dylan Connolly? At least he treasured Carolyn with unwavering devotion. Scarlett knew that Rhett didn’t love her, but couldn’t he at least pretend to have some respect for her some of the time? After all, she was the mother to his only child. Things would have been much more pleasant between them if he had shown her some admiration. Flopping herself onto her freshly-made bed, she buried her face into the pillow and screamed into the feather-filled mass, reiterating a phrase she had uttered only a few days before: “What a FINE homecoming!”

When sleep overtook her, commencing an unplanned late-morning nap, Scarlett again was faced with a vivid dream, much like she’d had the night before. She found herself on an Atlanta-bound train. How she knew it was heading to Atlanta, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it was fact. It was as if she were in two places at once, both observing the scene and experiencing it at the same time. Wade and Ella were with her, looking out the window and excitedly pointing at familiar landmarks, signaling that they were getting nearer to home with each passing minute, for Atlanta was much more their home than Tara would ever be. Scarlett, too, could feel the excited anticipation of returning to Atlanta. Yes, they had spent the month at Tara, Scarlett remembered, and after almost four weeks, Scarlett was ready for the freedom of running her own household again, far away from her younger sister. She knew–but again wasn’t exactly certain why she knew this–that her children were happier and more animated than they had been just weeks before. She could have said the same for herself, for somehow she felt closer to life again.

As the train came to a stop at the depot in Atlanta, Ella exclaimed, “There’s Uncle Rhett and Bonnie and Mammy!” as she pounded on the window and then waved.

Yes, it was good to be home.

It was only when Scarlett alighted from the train and saw the feathered costume pieces Rhett and Bonnie were sporting that she realized this was the day that she had been tricked into selling her mills. As she watched herself interact with Rhett, she wanted to shout, “Beware! Don’t trust him!” even as she went on and on about news of the County. Soon enough, they were again on the front porch and she was quizzing Rhett about shingles for the store and a trade on some mules. And then Rhett brought up Ashley’s offer to purchase the mills and she watched herself again fall into his trap.

The last image she had of herself before waking was after supper that night; she was climbing the stairs to her bedroom to prepare for her meeting with Melanie and Ashley Wilkes when she was to sign away her rights to the mills. For a split second, her body seemed to blur and the transition would have gone unnoticed to anyone who had blinked. Scarlett watched herself collapse to the top steps and she spotted her instant change of clothes and style of hair; she was transformed into the costumed Scarlett Butler of the 2011 grand opening.

“That’s how I came home,” Scarlett whispered, only to be awakened by Mammy. “I’m home,” she concluded as she looked into Mammy’s eyes and realized where she was.

“Yes, you’s home Miss Scarlett.”

Scarlett gently swiped at Mammy’s hands, signaling that she wished her to withdraw, her testiness carrying over from the morning.

"What is it, Mammy?”

“It’s time for dinner, Miss Scarlett. You want it brought up here or–”

“No, Mammy. No.”

While disoriented, Scarlett knew she had been dreaming–dreaming again of her recent past, a reality she had not consciously experienced. She sat up, not wishing to hide out in her bedroom anymore. She was glad to be home and Scarlett decided she wouldn’t allow her anger to keep her from everything else that she loved. There would be no more tears shed over her foolish expectations of her husband. She had to live with him and that was that. If she had to force herself to be pleasant, so be it. There would be no extended wars in this house.

“Will Rhett be joining us?” Scarlett asked while rubbing her forehead with her hand, wondering if he had run off again after doing his favor for Melanie.

“I suspect so.”

Scarlett pushed herself off the bed and walked to the basin to splash some water on her face and remove any evidence that her spirit had been fractured.

“Tell everyone that I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Scarlett requested as she examined her untidy hair in the mirror.

Mammy watched her former charge with equal parts sympathy and respect, realizing that the troubles of a few months ago were still very much alive despite the remarkable healing that Scarlett had achieved at Tara. Apparently, much of her progress had been worn away in the last two days. She knew that Scarlett had the strength to pull through, but sadly, it appeared that she would always heal much better when away from Rhett Butler. Mammy thought back to her arguments against the marriage, which Scarlett had stubbornly dismissed, and knew she had been right to speak out against Scarlett marrying this man. Her Little Miss would have faced much less strife in any other union. But, it was too late to turn back the clock and Mammy knew Scarlett would find some way to move beyond the current conflict.

“Yes’m. I’ll tell ‘em.”

 

Scarlett’s mending did not begin that day, and in fact, she began to unravel further with each night that she met. The early days of her return were mostly productive and cheery, something she looked forward to with eagerness, but the nights…the nights soon became her most feared foe. For, during the nights, Scarlett began to be plagued by frightening dreams. She began to fear these dreams so terribly that she would try to keep awake by listening to music on the MP3 player, but after R.E.M.’s “Nightswimming” lulled her to sleep one night, allowing the music to play for hours and squander a precious battery, she vowed to be more careful with her limited supply, and so she decided she had to give up music as a means to remaining conscious.

Scarlett buried herself in her work, giving more of an effort than she had since building each major endeavor from the ground up. Many nights she would work late in her office after everyone else had gone to bed–mainly to avoid the dreaded nightmares–either going over her books with a fine-toothed comb, devising ways to save on expenses, or searching through catalogues and magazines to find the latest and greatest items to stock in her store. When her body would not cooperate with her anymore, Scarlett might find herself slumped over her desk in the early morning, a patch of drool staining her store ledger. She had dark circles under her eyes, discoloring her perfect complexion as her tan and freckles began to fade with the aid of customary parasols and bonnets. The lack of sleep was beginning to affect her concentration and it led to a lost contract and few minor errors in sales quotes that only Ashley would normally make. Even fully aware of the consequences, Scarlett still continued on this unhealthy path. She didn’t want Rhett to catch her weeping in the night, hearing her through the wall that they shared. She didn’t want to wake Bonnie again with a scream. And above all else, she didn’t want to know the suffering of her nightmares.

While her initial dreams were not very distressing–repeats, in fact, of those that she’d had while in modern Atlanta covering her time spent at Tara with Wade and Ella–the dreams took a darker turn as her mind rewound through the lost days of August, then July, 1871. For several nights, Scarlett observed the sickly, skeletal frame of her body during the time after her miscarriage, when she had obviously been unable or unwilling to eat. She could painfully sense the confusion she had suffered and the inability to fight the walls closing in on her in this suffocating home. How could she escape the mess she had found herself in? How could life go on after losing her baby? How could she ever look at Rhett again after what had been said between them? And how could they face each other after such a loss? Their interactions had been cold and impersonal, as if they were strangers who were only forced to share a living space for a very short duration and then would separate, never to see each other again. Rhett had cared for the children, keeping them from bothering her, and he had looked after her businesses, but the two of them rarely spoke and their eyes never met.

Most frightening was the period during which her life was in peril. She never could have imagined how sick she had really been until she saw and experienced it in her dreams. Medical care had improved so much since her time that her rather swift modern recovery fooled her into thinking that it would have been reasonably easy in any time. She wept over her other half’s suffering, which in fact had been her own suffering. Scarlett watched in pained confusion as she writhed upon her bed, as if seeing a dream within a dream, clearly imagining that Melanie was having her baby and that the Yankees were coming. She could see Atlanta on fire, the same as the night they had escaped the city, but knew she must stay with Melanie; she was having so much trouble with the labor and was in excruciating pain. At some point she, Scarlett, had clearly been delirious under Dr. Meade’s care. What was most painful was watching herself sob over her lost baby while in her sickbed, realizing how difficult it had been to say goodbye–in any time–to the little one on whom it seemed all her hopes had rested.

And as a final stab to her heart, she dreamt of her argument with Rhett on the stairs after she told him that she was pregnant…when everything went wrong and–she believed–could never be righted again.

The only silver lining to her nightly visits to the past was that her memories had returned, no matter how hurtful they had been. She now knew and understood her experiences from July 18 through September 15, 1871. Now, Scarlett would not need to be concerned with pretending to know what events or conversations her family or business associates were referencing. She knew the moment when Bonnie had introduced her to Blackbeard after she had recovered enough from the miscarriage for her children to see her again. Scarlett knew that Suellen was pregnant and she, Scarlett, was to have another nephew or niece. And there was one memory for which Scarlett was most thankful for, no matter the cost of her waking tears.

Scarlett learned that Rhett, in fact, _had_ come to her rescue on that awful day of her fall. He hadn’t walked away leaving her to suffer at the bottom of the stairs–frightened, helpless, and alone–as she had originally believed. To know that he had rushed to her side in an instant and had done everything in his power to help her in that moment gave Scarlett a comfort she had not expected, and a small portion of the ice that had been forming around her heart began to melt.

It was after the night of reliving her accident that Scarlett spent the next two evenings downing coffee to keep herself from falling asleep, terrified of experiencing that specific dream once more. Unfortunately, her body had weakened significantly from the lack of sleep and her mind could no longer control it; she collapsed from the fatigue and strain at Johnnie Gallegher’s mill three-and-a-half weeks after she’d arrived back to her time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings apply. As always, I need to reformat the story when I paste it here, so apologies if anything seems missing. Please, enjoy!

Part Two

 

Chapter 16

 

When Scarlett finally had some clarity in the time following her blackout, she found herself in her bed, corset loosened, and Dr. Meade at her bedside. She was barely conscious during a short examination followed by an acceptance of a dose of laudanum before her eyes again fell shut, but she briefly wondered if Rhett was nearby. Somehow, she sensed his presence. While their relationship hadn’t improved tremendously, and in fact had remained rather cool, the friction had eased somewhat. Scarlett’s anger had begun to fade, accepting that she would not receive an apology from her husband. Why her expectations of him had increased during their time apart, Scarlett could not understand, but she had begun to think about him in a realistic manner again, as Rhett had always been, and not as a gallant man who would forever treasure and respect her. Once she let go of that illusion, it had been easier to interact with him. While he still had not offered an apology for his interference in her business affairs, he had not done anything to vex her any further since their reunion.

 

“Scarlett?” Melanie voiced as Scarlett regained consciousness many hours later.

“Melly?”

“Yes, it’s me, darling. Once I heard of your ill health, I came right away. But if you don’t want me here, tell me at once. I shall leave immediately.”

Scarlett sighed, her body begging her to return to sleep. As she was now, she didn’t much care whether Melanie stayed or departed. Taking the weak response as an invitation, Melanie remained in her chair.

Try as she might, Scarlett was unable to relax in the atmosphere of Melanie’s steadfast attention and she soon wished to be left alone.

“You don’t need to sit with me.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to–”

“Melly, it’s not necessary. I’m not sick. I only…fainted,” Scarlett weakly explained, struggling with the last word. She prided herself on keeping her wits in any given situation, when any other woman would swoon. Why Scarlett’s mind and body were failing her, she couldn’t understand. She’d dreamt of her homecoming so many nights and never foresaw such difficulties upon her return, but she was falling apart at the seams. She didn’t want Melanie to see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this: weak and helpless.

“Scarlett, you know this is more alarming than a minor swoon. If it weren’t so serious, would Johnnie Gallegher have found it necessary to drive you back into town? You know he’s not a…good man,” Melanie said hesitantly, not wanting to speak ill of others, but recalling Ashley’s opinion of the man. “You were certainly not well, otherwise he would have left you to drive yourself back alone, not concerning himself with the consequences. You weren’t able to keep your eyes open or stand on your own. You’ve been wearing yourself out since you’ve been back from Tara. You must listen to Doctor Meade and take as much rest as you need for your exhaustion. You might not be fully healed,” Melanie lectured, cautiously taking Scarlett’s hand in hers. When she brought the hand up to her cheek it triggered a memory in Scarlett that set her on a painful path and Scarlett began weeping as if she were experiencing her illness after the miscarriage yet again.

“Oh, dear. Have I done something to hurt you?” Melanie asked, releasing Scarlett’s hand. “Are you in pain, dear? Should I call for Doctor Meade?”

“No. No,” Scarlett moaned, rolling her head from side to side, her left hand concealing her face.

“Scarlett, darling, what is it?” Melanie asked, leaning over the writhing body, her ordinarily large eyes having grown to the size of saucers in her worry.

Scarlett continued to cry, now uncertain if it was October or if she was experiencing the terror of July yet again. Melanie dabbed her handkerchief gently across Scarlett’s cheeks in an attempt to soothe her dear friend, but Scarlett seemed inconsolable.

“Please, darling, tell me what’s causing you such sorrow?” Melanie begged.

“Dreams,” Scarlett proclaimed through her sobs, clawing at the roots of her hair and pressing against her temples. “Dreams, dreams… I’ve been dreaming of it…over and over. I can’t get it out of my head. I know that it’s how everything happened and…and I don’t want to remember it. I don’t want to know…to know of it. I wish I had never known!”

“Dreams?” Melanie repeated to herself. With her eyes fixed on the frantic woman before her, she recalled similar times all those years ago at Tara when she’d had to wake Scarlett from her frequent nightmares. The nightmares, she believed, were partly to blame for Scarlett’s transformation from a healthy, vibrant young woman into the pale, thin shell that housed her beaten soul for so many years. Melanie hated to think that this could be happening yet again.

“Dreams, like before? Have those returned, Scarlett? What was it? Fog? You were running somewhere?”

“No. No, it’s not like that now,” Scarlett was able to reply between gasps for air, actually being helped for once by a reminder of her old nightmare. She would welcome a return of that dream to replace of any of these heartbreaking ones.

Melanie instinctively pressed her hands against Scarlett’s shoulders, putting much of her body’s weight into it, and took to a pattern of calm breaths as if to encourage Scarlett to follow her lead. Scarlett did so, faithfully staring into Melanie’s steady eyes. After several minutes of this routine, Scarlett began to stabilize and Melanie again took to drying Scarlett’s cheeks.

“Melly?” Scarlett whimpered. “It’s not July, is it?”

“No, dear,” she answered sympathetically. “It’s October. Is your memory confused again?”

Scarlett closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank God. Thank God,” once hearing the word ‘October’. She pulled the handkerchief from Melanie and pressed it to her mouth as she sniffled. “If I’m confused, it’s because of my dreams. Oh, they won’t go away,” Scarlett moaned. “I’m so terrified to sleep, Melly. I can’t…I can’t live through them anymore. I can’t!”

“Oh, darling,” Melanie sighed sympathetically. “I know how nightmares have always tormented you.”

Melanie’s compassionate tone encouraged Scarlett to continue.

“Melly, I keep dreaming about…about when I was sick and…and about my accident–when I lost my baby,” Scarlett concluded in a cracking, nearly inaudible voice, which rolled into quiet weeping.

“About July,” Melanie breathed out sympathetically, now understanding why Scarlett had been so frantic. She had been as frantic immediately after the miscarriage, when her fever and heartache had led to extraordinary hallucinations and sorrowful weeping. “Oh, darling,” Melanie voiced empathetically, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, her own heart breaking for realizing what her dear friend had been going through.

Melanie leaned forward, reaching for Scarlett and Scarlett sat up, her anger against one of the few comforts in her world dying a quick death, and she accepted Melanie’s embrace, holding her tightly and weeping on her narrow shoulder. Scarlett needed someone to understand. She needed someone to hold and comfort her and help chase these demons away. Small, fragile Melanie Wilkes would have been one of the last people Scarlett would have chosen to seek out when searching for a protector, but she soon realized that Melanie’s compassion outranked that of anyone else in her life.

“How do I–? How do I stop having these nightmares, Melly? It hurts so much.”

Scarlett’s tears trailed down her cheeks, again recalling the images that the dreams presented. The pain of losing this baby was terrible enough the first time, but to experience it multiple times over multiple nights was torture. How would she ever move past it if she was to be reminded of it with such frequency?

“It’ll get better. Right now it’s so recent, but with time, those dreams will fade away,” Melanie soothed, caressing Scarlett’s disheveled hair. “You’re just going to have to try. You must be brave. You need to sleep in order to get well. If you wake, remember that it’s only a dream, only a memory; you aren’t reliving it. Tell yourself that it’s October. You have so much to look forward to. Remind yourself that Ella’s birthday is next week. Write yourself a note and leave it by your bed if you need to,” Melanie brainstormed before pulling away to stare into Scarlett’s bloodshot eyes. “And you need to eat, too. Captain Butler says you haven’t been eating well at supper. Maybe you’re having these dreams because you’re tired and hungry. Remember how it was at Tara when you started to have your nightmares? Remember how hard you were working and how little we had to eat? Perhaps once you’re able to rest and fill your stomach this will all pass.”

Scarlett pressed her lips together, trying to take in Melanie’s advice. Melanie was right; she was in dire need of rest and sustenance and had to meet the evenings with bravery and wisdom. She would move past this just as she had survived the most intense pain of her parents’ deaths and just as she had recovered after her miscarriage with the help of the Connolly family and her new friends. It would get better. Her dreams would fade.

But it wasn’t fair. Why should she have to relive this when she felt that she had already healed weeks ago? No, it wasn’t fair.

Scarlett again moved to embrace her friend and rest her chin on Melanie’s shoulder, needing additional comfort this afternoon. The feeling was as close to nestling in Ellen O’Hara’s arms as Scarlett had experienced since her mother had left her world.

“Melly, I remember you, that second night…after– I remember you holding my hand the entire night,” she disclosed, recalling Melanie’s spiritual presence in her bedroom in Marietta on her first night with Dylan and Carolyn. “You were by my side nearly the entire time that I was sick, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Melanie answered quietly, rubbing Scarlett’s back comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Scarlett whispered, offering her rare gratitude with a tight squeeze. It was twice as challenging to offer thanks to someone who had recently betrayed her, but Scarlett now understood that Melanie had selflessly cared for her during that horrible time, providing Scarlett with all the strength that her petite body could muster. She had not been aware of her 1871 life while she had been away from it, but she had always remembered that night when Melanie had held her hand in the darkness of her unfamiliar basement bedroom and helped her through to the next morning.

“I remember asking for Rhett,” Scarlett innocently recalled, “but it’s as if you hadn’t heard me. I suppose you didn’t… I suppose you couldn’t have.”

“No,” Melanie exhaled regretfully before her body tensed. “I never– Oh. I never heard you. How I wish I had. I’m so sorry. Oh, I made such a mess of things.”

“What do you mean?” Scarlett questioned, pulling back to search Melanie’s face.

“Oh, Captain Butler…and…well, I…” Melanie stammered, unsure if her conversation with Rhett Butler that awkward day–when they finally knew that Scarlett’s life was out of danger–should be spread beyond his room.

“Why wasn’t he here, Melly? I don’t remember him at all during the time I was at my worst. Didn’t he want…?”

“That’s what I mean,” Melanie began unsteadily. “That’s why I say that I– It’s my fault that he didn’t know. I know– I’m certain that he wanted to be by your side, but… I think that he thought that…that you didn’t want him near you.”

“That _I_ didn’t want?” Scarlett asked puzzled.

“He thought he had hurt you terribly and felt that you would not want to see him. I think he only would have come if you had asked for him. And yet you had… And since I was so _stupidly_ deaf…it’s my fault that he wasn’t able to sit with you.”

“Oh,” Scarlett voiced with surprise, removing her focus from the woman bowing her head in front of her. Not only did she remember calling for Rhett in 2011, but through her nightmares, she knew that she’d called for him in 1871, though she’d abandoned her wishes fairly quickly, thinking that while she wanted him, he did not want her. And now she discovered that, at least according to Melanie, Rhett had presumed just the opposite.

“There’s so much that I need to apologize for,” Melanie lamented.

Scarlett dragged her mind from Melanie’s revelation about Rhett and replied, “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, Melly. Don’t let’s bother about all that now. You’re a darling for staying with me like this and like before when I was sick. Ashley and I spoke about our…our misunderstanding when I was at the mill several weeks back.”

Melanie nodded her head, signaling her knowledge of the discussion. Ashley had offered Rhett’s money back to Scarlett that day. And Scarlett would have accepted it, too, had Ashley not told her that Rhett had generously gifted it to them–to Beau–and refused to take it back, which was why he was now offering it to her. While Ashley pressed the shockingly substantial check to his desk for Scarlett to take, she decided she could not accept it and appear avaricious as compared to her magnanimous husband. Rhett had put her in yet another impossible situation. Oh, how she had wished to take Rhett’s money and stash it away for herself as compensation for all his cruelties throughout their association! But, if she wanted Ashley to continue to admire her as the sweet, generous, and gentle girl he had mistakenly took her for in her youth, she couldn’t accept the check. Lady Bountiful, she would be; no matter how painful it had been to see that money lost to her.

“Ashley told me why you encouraged him to make me an offer. I’m still mighty angry that you went behind my back…and Ashley’s for that matter. But he told me how much you thought it would help me if I stopped my work with the mills. You didn’t share Rhett’s mean intentions; I understand that now. And maybe you’re right. I’ve been working so awfully hard lately and maybe that’s why these terrible dreams have come on.”

“Yes. You must rest so you are able to care for your family. That is what is most important. And right now you must let them care for you,” she added wisely. “I’ve distracted you for far too long when you’re to be resting.” Melanie pulled away and encouraged Scarlett to recline. Scarlett did so without a verbal request and Melanie drew a downy knit blanket up and over Scarlett’s exhausted body.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Melanie asked.

Scarlett shook her head.

“Do you think you’re in danger of dreaming?”

“I haven’t had any more nightmares today,” Scarlett answered, shifting to her right side.

“Perhaps it’s because of the laudanum,” Melanie suggested. “Doctor Meade said it’d be safe to give you another dose at this time. Would you like–?”

Scarlett nodded her head, glancing at the small bottle at her bedside. She opened her mouth and Melanie expertly delivered the narcotic.

Before closing her eyes, Scarlett asked, “Melly, would you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone if…if…by chance…”

“Of course. I understand. I’ll stay,” she said, taking Scarlett’s left hand in hers. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here should you need anything.”

“Thank you, Melly,” Scarlett whispered as her final words, finding relief in the comfort of her old friend.

As an hour slipped by, Melanie, too, was beginning to feel fatigued, but held steadfastly to Scarlett’s hand. Scarlett had remained constant in her sleep, which Melanie had been thankful for, but observing someone in that state must have been contagious. Melanie fell into a nap of her own and only woke when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Miss Melly?” Rhett whispered, carefully watching to detect if Scarlett stirred at his words, but she did not.

“It’s all right. She’s had another dose of laudanum. I doubt your words will disturb her,” Melanie reassured, keeping her own voice level down.

“How is she?” Rhett asked with intense focus.

“She’s doing just fine. I think she’ll be much improved once she’s able to catch up on her sleep.”

Rhett nodded subtly.

“You should go home. I’ll find Pork and tell him to arrange for your return in our carriage.”

“Oh, no, I– I can’t leave her.”

“Why not?”

“I promised Scarlett that I’d stay. She’s been having dreadful nightmares and she shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Nightmares?” Rhett asked with grave concern, his brow furrowing.

“That’s why she’s suffering from such fatigue. She’s been afraid to sleep for many weeks from what I gather. She was like this when we were living at Tara. She was so frightened then, that she slept in my bed so she wouldn’t have to wake alone.”

“I didn’t know,” Rhett revealed regretfully, his entire body freezing like a statue as he stared at his wife.

Melanie stifled a lengthy yawn with her free hand.

“You must go home,” Rhett ordered after the universal sound of fatigue drew him out of his daze.

“Really, I must stay–”

“I don’t want what happened to Scarlett happening to you, too,” Rhett stated before exiting the room to make arrangements, not waiting for Melanie to argue.

Melanie kept her grip on Scarlett’s hand, thinking about what she could say to Captain Butler in order for him to allow her to stay. Would Scarlett forgive her if she left now? It seemed as if Scarlett had finally excused the worst of her crimes, but if she woke and no one was there to help her out of a nightmare, would the blame be placed on her? Melanie couldn’t do anything to upset Scarlett in the fragile state of their friendship. And she couldn’t allow Scarlett to wake terrified and alone.

The door again swung open and Rhett lightly stepped over to her.

“The carriage is ready.”

“Really, I should stay.”

“No–”

“Someone needs to stay with her,” Melanie stressed, the depth of her loyalty on full display.

“I’ll fetch Mammy; she can take your place. I can’t ask you to stay when you’re drifting off to sleep. And your family is probably wishing you home for supper. Once Mammy arrives, you can be on your way.”

“Wait,” Melanie whispered before Rhett took too many steps to the door. An idea had just come to her that might correct an earlier oversight.

Rhett stopped, giving Melanie his full attention.

“I’ll go, but please don’t bother Mammy. You stay,” she suggested, her eyes steady and encouraging. “I’ll only go if you stay in my place.”

Rhett shook his head as if this was the stupidest idea he had ever heard.

“No, I’m the last person Scarlett would want to see if she was waking from a nightmare.”

“How do you know?” Melanie questioned innocently.

“I think I know better than– No, she doesn’t want me here.”

“What if she did? I think she would prefer to see you above anyone else.”

Rhett chucked lightly and shook his head.

“Your association with me has corrupted you and I’m very sorry to know it. I wrongly asked you to lie in order to advance my very ill-devised plan and now you’re taking to dishonesty like a fish to water.”

Melanie frowned at the comment.

“I never should have mislead my husband, and I don’t intend to do such a thing again–to anyone. Whatever I say now is what I believe to be the truth. I think you are– I think there are several things you have misunderstood about Scarlett.” Melanie spoke firmly, but cautiously, hoping her sentiments were in fact correct.

What Scarlett had told her this afternoon was that when she was ill she had wanted Rhett despite the agonizing rift between them that had been exposed several months ago by Rhett Butler, himself, as he lay crying, his head in Melanie’s lap. Surely that had been the worst time in their marriage and yet Scarlett had still wanted her husband then. Despite the most recent impasse, it couldn’t have been as dire as after the miscarriage. Melanie dearly hoped that it wasn’t, because if it was, she was making a terrible mistake and Scarlett might never again forgive her.

“Please, come take my place.”

Rhett shook his head, his eyes conveying the message: “ _You’re a fool, Melanie Wilkes, for believing that she would want me here._ ”

“Please,” Melanie requested, seeing the hidden fear behind Rhett’s dark eyes.

Rhett first leaned in her direction before returning his weight to his back leg.

“No, I can’t,” Rhett spoke, shifting his eyes to the floor.

“Of course you can,” Melanie said with a smile, speaking calmly as if she were interacting with her young son or nephew. “Come take my place.”

Melanie rose, careful not to disturb Scarlett as she continued to grip her hand.

Rhett reluctantly moved toward the chair, giving Melanie a hesitant glance, but obediently slid his imposing body onto the seat.

“Give me your hand,” Melanie calmly requested.

“No,” Rhett muttered in a manner that told Melanie that she had taken her request too far.

“It will help give Scarlett strength. It will help so she does not feel alone. If you just…like so,” she said while drawing his large hand to the bed, resting the back of it against the coverlet. Normally, she wouldn’t have thought of taking such a bold action, fearful of how a man like Rhett Butler would react, but her desire to right the wrong was much more powerful than her embarrassment. Thankfully, his reverence for her did not allow him to strike out against her action. Melanie skillfully transferred Scarlett’s hand from hers into his, though he did not allow himself to close his fingers around the small hand. “There. See, it isn’t so bad,” she said as if to her son, had he just taken a bite of a potentially disagreeable vegetable. “I know Scarlett won’t be angry,” she whispered, “I know she won’t, but she might be surprised. I remember how desperately she needs comfort after those frightening dreams. When she wakes…be kind to her,” she suggested serenely without a trace of admonishment. “I’ll take my leave, now. Thank you, Captain Butler,” she said, lightly touching her hand to his broad shoulder. “You’ll do more good for Scarlett here than you would on the other side of her door,” Melanie said with final encouragement.

When Melanie stepped into the hall, she turned one last time to look on the scene noting that Rhett was having difficulty on deciding where to direct his gaze; it was clear that he was afraid to focus on Scarlett’s face. Finally, he bowed his head and sealed Scarlett’s hand between both of his. With that image left in her mind, Melanie quietly closed the door wearing a sleepy, content smile.

 

From the time Rhett sent Melanie home that late afternoon, he had remained by Scarlett’s side, choosing to pass on supper in order to continue his watch. Mammy had stopped in several times offering to relieve him of his duty. Though he hesitantly refused each time, he had clearly given the offer some serious consideration–especially after experiencing Mammy’s disapproving looks and grumbles, which expressed her belief that he was the last person who should be keeping watch over Scarlett. But he stayed. It was as if he was under Melanie’s strict orders, and she being the person he was least likely to ever chance disappointing again, he chose to honor her wishes.

After several hours alone with Scarlett in the tranquil room, Rhett finally pulled himself out of his detached, meditative state and began to study the fingers that were resting peacefully across his palm. He seemed unafraid of stirring her out of her sleep, having observed the numbing effects of the laudanum. His thumb grazed across the white line near her knuckle where her wedding band had resided throughout the summer, leaving a pale patch bordered by a lingering tan. She had only removed the ring recently–the result of his deceitful actions. After everything that had happened, even after the horrific personal conflict of only a few months ago, it was a business matter that had been the final straw for Scarlett and this marriage. But while she had removed his ring, she hadn’t left him; she hadn’t ordered him to leave.

Rhett loosened his grip on her hand when he felt the fingers stir beneath his, but instead of pulling her hand away, Scarlett wrapped her fingers around his hand tightly.

“Home,” Scarlett mumbled into the pillow, nearly causing Rhett to peel himself away, likely tempted to flee to a door, hoping that Scarlett would not wake and find him here.

Her words were mostly unintelligible as her voice continued to exercise itself. It was possible that a few names had come through clearly, such as a sighing _Carolyn_ , a weak _Sadie_ , or an abrupt _Jen_. But soon, Scarlett’s voice grew in volume and clarity, while a few thin tears escaped her eyes.

“Why can’t you hear me?” she spoke, tugging Rhett’s hand. “I’m home, Dylan! I didn’t run away. Why can’t you hear me?”

She had grown agitated, causing Rhett to lean over her, obviously well versed in the signs of one of Scarlett’s nightmares. He first gently pressed against her restless shoulders after she had twisted onto her back, then brought his hand down to her face, wiping away the tears that continued to stream.

“Scarlett? Scarlett, wake up,” he requested over the writhing body, attempting to stabilize her. “Wake up, darling.”

“No,” she spoke breathlessly, pressing her hands against Rhett’s sturdy arms. “I need to tell them. I need to tell them…” Then she opened her eyes and her pale green irises met the anxious black eyes of her husband.

“Oh,” she said with surprise, holding his gaze for a minute while her breaths slowed with each exhale. She turned her head away and released her grip on the finely-woven fabric of his coat; her arms fell to the bed like a heavy load was weighing them down.

“You were having a nightmare,” Rhett stated while he delicately wiped away the wet trails he had access to on Scarlett’s right cheek, continuing to use the back of his fingers after forgetting about the handkerchief in his pocket.

Scarlett shook her head and rolled her body onto her left side.

“No?” Rhett questioned skeptically.

“No…. Yes…. I don’t know,” Scarlett sighed, struggling with how to define it.

The dream wasn’t frightening in the manner that her other dreams had been. The worst aspect of this unconscious experience was not being able to communicate with her rescuers and tell them that she had returned to 1871. She had observed James, Peggy, Jennifer, Sadie, Carolyn, and Dylan searching the house for her from top to bottom, anxiously calling out her name. Even little Olivia had been hunting under beds and in small cubbies for her missing playmate. And Scarlett had been walking around them, attempting to gather their attention, but it was as if there was some thick transparent wall blocking her from them, a wall much like she had seen at the _Georgia Aquarium_ , which kept the aquatic life separated from the land-loving humans. Through this wall, she could clearly see and hear them, but unfortunately, the opposite was not true. Scarlett felt their frantic distress and was desperate to let them know that she was well.

When Rhett rediscovered his handkerchief, he passed it over Scarlett’s shoulder to gain her attention. Scarlett could have sworn he’d given it a little wave of surrender before it transferred from his hand to hers. She remained facing away from him while she dried the tears that had escaped Rhett’s attention, finally pressing the rumpled fabric to her mouth and subtly breathing in the familiar scent that always relieved her nerves. How odd it was to find Rhett here keeping watch over her. Was Mammy unavailable? What about Prissy? Was there no other option? Surely Rhett had better things to do. And where was Melanie? Hadn’t Melanie been with her when she fell into the abyss?

Scarlett lifted herself up on her elbows to look about the room, seeking out another guardian, and immediately regretted the motion; the laudanum had brought on a bout of nausea. When her face turned green, Rhett wisely encouraged her to return her head to the pillow, gently pressing her to the bed. Scarlett clamped her eyes shut and focused on breathing deeply until the sensation passed.            

After she was safe to open her mouth again, Scarlett instructed, “Never let me accept that dreadful substance again. I might tolerate one dose, but a second _never_ agrees with me.”

With Scarlett’s eyes remaining closed, she was unable to see the amused smile on Rhett’s lips as he seated himself.

“Where’s Melly?” Scarlett asked, now opening her eyes and aiming her vision in the direction of the chair Rhett now occupied.

“I happened to catch her in a deep slumber after she’d sat with you for some hours. I sent her home to find a better place to rest, though she gave ample protest and argument to stay.”

“I can only imagine,” Scarlett said with subtle irritation and a roll of her eyes, sharing a genuine smile with Rhett. “But she is sweet to care so much, I suppose…” Scarlett breathed in deeply, sighed, and drew her eyes away from Rhett’s, growing aware of their uncommon friendliness with each other. His attention wasn’t unwelcome, but it left her confused and somewhat embarrassed over the circumstances. How long had it been since they last shared a smile?

“How are you feeling, Scarlett?” Rhett asked kindly, not waiting for her attention to return to him.

Scarlett took another deep breath and exhaled slowly before responding.

“Fine…if I don’t move,” she joked, referencing her dizziness. “I wonder when this will wear off? It might help to have a drink of–”

“Tea?” Rhett asked as he pulled a small porcelain cup from her bedside table. “Or water?”

Scarlett smiled, noting the short metal straw resting in the teacup, recalling the bendable plastic straw that she’d used at Emory University Hospital in July. She might have done better with a rye grass straw since it had a bit more flexibility, for at this moment, she did not wish to lift her head even a millimeter and the rigid metal straw would not bend at the correct angle. Though, she might have to try to move a little if she wanted to do something to flush this toxic substance out of her body.

“I’ll try a little tea, but pull it away if my face turns green again,” Scarlett ordered. Rhett kept a steady hold on the cup while Scarlett maneuvered herself so her lips could grasp the silver straw; then she drew in a healthy volume of the warm liquid.

“Was it all right?” Rhett asked as Scarlett laid her head back on her pillow.

“Fine…fine,” she whispered, closing her eyes again as another bout of dizziness overcame her. “Thank you.”

Rhett remained silent–allowing for the spell to pass–and set the teacup back on its saucer with a muted clatter.

“I think I could have found sleep easily without the laudanum, but I didn’t want to…”

“To have any more nightmares?”

Scarlett’s eyes sprung open.

“How did you know?”

“Miss Melly informed me that this was the reason why you haven’t been sleeping. I knew you’d been working all hours of the night in your office. I could hear you pacing in your room. I knew something was wrong but I– I didn’t know why you refused to sleep.”

“Oh,” Scarlett voiced, closing her eyes again, somewhat embarrassed by the revelation. Rhett had always known that she suffered from nightmares, but he had gone so low as to throw it in her face recently when Bonnie’s fears of the dark had been most intense. He would surely think her weak since he thought it foolish that a foggy mist had caused her so much terror.

“Is it still your old dream?” Rhett asked with care.

Scarlett thanked God once she realized that Melanie hadn’t revealed the subject of her nightmares.

“No,” Scarlett sighed timidly, only giving a response because she’d heard no mockery in Rhett’s voice. Scarlett rolled her body onto her left side and folded her legs up to her stomach. She made it very clear that she was unwilling to speak on the subject Rhett had tried to raise. He had been a glaring figure in many of her nightmares, and she didn’t much feel like sharing that fact with him. She wished the details of her nightmares to be buried forever to avoid any further unpleasantness between her and Rhett. It should all be forgotten one day.

“Who’s Dylan?” Rhett questioned.

Scarlett’s eyes opened wide at the mention of Dylan Connolly. Had she said his name earlier? None of that information should have made it to Rhett’s ears. It was Scarlett’s secret, hers alone; Rhett was never to know of her experiences in 2011. Clenching her hand into a fist until her nails dug painfully into her palm, Scarlett cursed her unconscious self for letting some of the details escape her lips.

Despite her concern over the disclosure, Scarlett couldn’t help but be somewhat glad that Rhett had drawn her attention away from the horrific dreams that had been plaguing her lately. Instead, Rhett had directed her mind to the dear Dylan Connolly who had always cheered her spirits, though she could never truly tell Rhett about him, ever. Scarlett’s only answer came as the sound of sniffles.

“What were you dreaming about just now? You said you weren’t sure if it was a nightmare or not,” Rhett asked after Scarlett had not provided a suitable response to his first inquiry.

“I… I…” Scarlett struggled. What had she been dreaming about? That is, what story could she tell her husband that followed the pre-scripted words she had obviously spoken? What all had she said? What part of it had Rhett heard? Scarlett decided that she could only speak as much truth as possible without revealing the true identities of the cast of players.

“Do you remember it?” Rhett asked, surely sensing her confusion.

“I… Yes,” she answered, pressing the handkerchief to her mouth again, immediately berating herself for not exchanging the word _yes_ for _no_. Why must she always make everything more difficult for herself? Thankfully she wasn’t facing Rhett and she wouldn’t have to mask the lies in her expression, too. If only her voice could remain steady.

“I… I was dreaming about some friends.”

“Friends?” Rhett asked curiously.

“Friends from…from the County. I’d spent some time with them this summer, but I promised to…to see them again before I returned home. I wasn’t able to say goodbye to most of them and I feel quite bad about it.”

Scarlett twisted the handkerchief between her fingers roughly, holding it close to her chest, releasing some of the tension from her improvised storytelling.

“In my dream…they seemed concerned for me. They didn’t know what happened to me–as if I had disappeared and was nowhere to be found. I was trying to tell them that I was well and had returned home, but they couldn’t see me or hear me.”

“And this _Dylan_ is one of your County friends?” Rhett asked skeptically, and with a hint of what Scarlett identified as jealousy.

Who could this fictitious Dylan be? Scarlett had spoken to Rhett on many occasions about the people and families she’d known all her life and had never mentioned a _Dylan_. Though how much of that information had Rhett retained? Scarlett sometimes wondered if he had thought of other more important things during those conversations, only pretending to listen to her go on and on about the Tarletons and the Fontaines. As she thought of Dylan, her mind automatically trailed to thoughts of her father and somehow summoned up the name of her father’s old crony, Mr. McRae. While the family had found significant ruin, Scarlett decided that Dylan could be one of the deaf Mr. McRae’s grandsons–a rare successful one, she determined.

“Dylan? Yes. Our families have known each other for a long time–long before I was born. Dylan’s grandfather–old Mr. McRae–was friendly with Pa. They were always together. So you see, our families are close.”

Scarlett then bravely rolled to her right side so Rhett could see the honest and forthright face she had set. Somehow she felt a desire to catch a remaining look of jealousy in his visage, but she did not find it. And this gave her some temptation to _reveal_ that her father had wished above all else that she marry this _Dylan McRae_ , and therefore make it seem as if she had recently been spending time with one of her old beaux, but Scarlett thought better of it. She had always delighted in making her beaux jealous of each other, whether she truly cared for a particular gentleman or not, but she had never much succeeded with Rhett in that regard. For a brief moment, she thought she’d had an opening with Rhett, but maybe it had only been an illusion that had played upon her ears. Besides, any more details about Dylan, fictitious or not, would only get her into further trouble with her potentially truth-seeking husband.

“Dylan was visiting his McRae folks in Fayetteville during August, so we were able to catch up. He’s one of the old friends that I was unable to say goodbye to. That must be why I said his name. Did I say other names?”

“Possibly,” Rhett nodded, “though I couldn’t make them out.”

“Oh. Well, I remember lots of neighbors trying to find me. And I was calling for them, too,” Scarlett concluded, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Now, she only hoped that Rhett would never bring this up again should he happen to find himself in conversation with Suellen or anyone else familiar with the McRaes. Otherwise, she had fibbed herself into a corner that she would be unable to escape. Rhett’s expression was somewhat suspicious, though he would be unable to prove her lie in this moment… unless, “Oh, Mammy better have learned to keep her mouth shut when it comes to Rhett,” Scarlett thought, fighting against biting her lower lip. “And Wade and Ella… Well, I can pretend they’d forgotten meeting Dylan or even hearing of him. That should fix things where they’re concerned. They don’t know the County nearly as well as I do.”

“Could I have some more tea?” Scarlett asked docilely, hoping to distract Rhett’s thoughts from the dream she had described.

After Rhett lowered the cup and Scarlett began sipping the contents, he said, “I’m sure if you’re that concerned over what your neighbors are thinking, you could simply write each of them a reassuring letter…seeing as how upsetting your dream had been.”

Scarlett released the straw from her lips and looked up to catch Rhett’s brows in a raised position.

“A letter? A letter!”

With eyes suddenly wide open, Scarlett glowed euphorically. Rhett would have needed to be both deaf and blind to have missed the instant change in Scarlett’s mood.

“What a glorious idea!” she exclaimed, lifting herself to a seated position, adrenaline overpowering the nausea momentarily.

Rhett set the empty cup down with a clank and leaned over, pressing Scarlett down on the bed without any resistance.

“I think my _glorious_ idea can wait until you’ve had sufficient rest,” Rhett suggested.

Scarlett looked up into his laughing eyes and knew he must think her delirious for nearly praising the high heavens for the age-old practice of letter writing. Scarlett meekly smiled, pretending that her mind was not fully functioning this evening. But it _was_ a glorious idea! With a letter, she could let her friends know what had happened to her. And what was more incredible, she realized, was that she had her entire lifetime to compose it. It didn’t have to be done in this moment or tomorrow–though she hoped that she could accomplish the task as soon as possible. To be able to communicate with her twenty-first century friends again gave her such a thrill!

“I assume you would prefer not to spend the rest of your nocturnal hours in your day dress?” Rhett asked rather boldly, drawing her attention away from her new, most-splendid plans, causing Scarlett to wonder if her disrobing was something he would attend to on his own.

“No, I’d… No,” she stuttered, her eyes apprehensively wide.

“I’ll ring for Prissy,” Rhett explained after an extended pause, a gleam in his eyes, clearly sensing the source of Scarlett’s anxiety. “Would you like any more tea?”

Scarlett shook her head, filled with relief knowing that Prissy would be here to help her into her nightgown and assist her to the water closet.

“Water will be fine.”

“And how about something to eat? You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

Scarlett grimaced.

“No. I can’t think of food right now. My stomach couldn’t bear it. I’ll consider it tomorrow, but not right now, please.”

Rhett nodded and rose to tug the bell pull next to the headboard.

“You must think me a feeble creature to have fainted today,” Scarlett said, frowning when Rhett returned to his chair.

“No, not feeble, only worn out,” Rhett answered with a gentle fondness Scarlett had not heard in so long. His presence was so calming that she was now grateful that Melanie had been unable to stay with her this evening.

“Yes, I am tired,” Scarlett admitted. “And it’s my own fault. I think I’ve been making everything worse,” she said disappointedly, her thoughts altered since the conversation with Melanie.

“The nightmares?” Rhett asked.

“Yes.”

When Scarlett’s soft eyes met his, Rhett continued, “Would you like me to ask someone to sit with you tonight?”

It was obvious that Rhett didn’t intend himself to be one of her choices. And so, Scarlett bravely answered, “No, it’s not necessary.”

“I’ll keep the doors open between our rooms–”

“It’s not necessary,” Scarlett repeated, cutting off his suggestion and fighting to build up her courage so it truly would not be necessary.

“Scarlett–”

“What about Bonnie? I’ve already frightened her once not long ago; the doors were closed and she still heard me. She shouldn’t wake to the sound of her mother screaming.”

“I’ll be with her should she hear anything. I won’t let it frighten her.”

“How could it not?” Scarlett begged in question.

Rhett was unable to respond because Prissy had entered the room and Rhett rose to discuss Scarlett’s needs with her maid.

Scarlett pressed her hands forcefully against her stomach to soothe the nervousness bubbling inside. Night was upon her and all the customary fears were building themselves up with a steel structure. She thought of requesting a glass of brandy, but she hadn’t touched it much since returning home, the memory of her humiliating, stomach-turning experience with White Russian cocktails remaining fresh in her mind. Hard alcohol held very little appeal to her right now, though it might guide her to a mind-numbing sleep. Every instinct told her that she must remain awake, but she could hear Melanie’s voice: “You need to sleep in order to get well. You must be brave.”

“Mist’ Rhett’s gone to fetch you some fresh water, Miss Scarlett,” Prissy explained, reaching to assist Scarlett up from the bed.

Scarlett looked to the door, having missed Rhett’s exit in her contemplation.          Prissy escorted Scarlett to the water closet and then briefly left her to collect Scarlett’s nightgown. By the time Scarlett had exited the bathing room she had freshened up considerably and her spinning head had significantly stabilized. Scarlett sat at her vanity in order for Prissy to remove the remaining pins from her tangled hair, give the tresses a respectable brush, and finish it in a thick braid. While Prissy was tying off the braid with a thin emerald-colored ribbon, Rhett entered with a glass of cool water and a small pitcher. Requesting Prissy’s last bit of personal assistance before dismissing her for the night, Scarlett was helped to her bed.

As she was settling her weary legs under the warm blankets watching Prissy extinguish all of the lights but the one lamp next to her bed, Scarlett heard Bonnie’s sleepy, but demanding voice call, “Daddy!” And Scarlett sighed disappointedly, pressing her back into the pillow propped against the headboard with a sense of defeat. It had been nice to have Rhett’s full attention this evening, but she knew it was now at an end. Even if he did leave the passage from his room to hers open tonight, any scream from her would cause a terrible outburst from Bonnie, and then which one of them would Rhett choose to comfort?

“Bonnie,” Scarlett whispered jealously after Rhett had disappeared through the door connecting their rooms.

But Scarlett was surprised when he reappeared several minutes later carrying Bonnie effortlessly in his arms, she in a nightgown as brightly white as her mother’s. Rhett sat down in the chair next to Scarlett’s bed and whispered something into Bonnie’s ear before allowing her to climb over to her mother across the coverlet.

Scarlett presented Rhett with a look of question when Bonnie came to a rest at her side, her little hands pressing into her seated mother’s thigh. Why had he brought Bonnie to her like this? Her daughter’s first words gave her some indication.

“Mother. Daddy said you have bad dreams,” Bonnie whispered when Scarlett’s eyes met hers. “Like me.”

Scarlett’s eyes flashed to meet Rhett’s, silently asking him what he’d said to their daughter only minutes before. Had he been bracing the girl for what she might hear in the night?

Scarlett returned her focus to Bonnie and nodded sensitively.

“He said you might yell.”

Scarlett again nodded.

“You don’t want me to hear?” Bonnie asked.

Scarlett shook her head.

“No, darling.”

“I won’t be afraid,” Bonnie reassured. “I’ll be brave.”

“But I frightened you not long ago, remember?”

Bonnie nodded, dropping her eyes.

“What if I scream tonight and you hear me?”

“I won’t cry,” Bonnie offered valiantly.

Scarlett weakly smiled, unsure if Bonnie could honor that statement, but gratefully accepted the sentiment and pulled Bonnie to her, kissing her on the top of her head.

“Thank you, darling. I know you can be brave. I promise I’ll try to have only pleasant dreams tonight.”

“Me, too,” Bonnie said, snuggling closer to her mother and resting her head against Scarlett’s chest, her breaths quickly slowing as sleep was claiming her.

The steadiness of Bonnie’s breathing calmed Scarlett and her eyelids soon closed, savoring the warmth of her daughter. It almost seemed as if Bonnie had chosen her over Rhett tonight, and that thought gave Scarlett a powerful satisfaction. Of course the child needed her mother just as much as she needed her father, but that thought had never occurred to Scarlett until just this moment. Scarlett’s lips curved into a contented smile, realizing that Bonnie loved her as much–or nearly as much–as she loved her father. How that thought eased Scarlett’s conscience! Rhett’s cruel words about her mothering skills before he took the little girl away from her for three months obviously did not hold much water…at least where Bonnie was concerned. Scarlett was now certain that Rhett could never take Bonnie away indefinitely; Bonnie would always be drawn to her mother’s secure arms. Though tonight Scarlett knew she had to release her daughter from them, if only to protect her youngest from the demons that visited Scarlett in the night.

“Goodnight, darling,” Scarlett whispered into Bonnie’s ear before glancing up at Rhett, signaling that she was ready to give Bonnie up to him. Scarlett reluctantly pushed Bonnie away while Rhett pulled the limp little girl up into his arms.

“Good– Goodnight, Rhett,” Scarlett voiced with effort, knowing how watchful Rhett’s eyes had been on the entire scene. There was a look of peacefulness behind the dark eyes that she had not witnessed before, and Scarlett briefly wondered what had brought the emotion to the forefront.

“I’ll keep the doors open. Call if you need anything,” he solidly requested as he cradled Bonnie. She instantly curled herself toward his body in her slumber.

Scarlett nodded courageously, continuing to remain seated until the image of Rhett’s broad back disappeared through the door.

Her husband’s behavior this evening had been most unexpected. Had all their rows been part of another nightmare more real than anything else she had imagined? No, the ugliness of their marriage was woefully true; Scarlett was certain of it. But how to explain Rhett’s behavior this evening… If he was going to be like this every time she found herself in a swoon…why she’d have Prissy pull her stays so tight that a faint would be guaranteed on a daily basis. It might be a small price to pay for some gentleness and respect from the man. But Scarlett’s mind was too tired to think on her husband’s unusual conduct any further tonight. To tackle a subject such as that, Scarlett’s brain would need to work at full capacity…and she probably would need the additional assistance of a wiser soul.

Scarlett turned to her bedside table, reached for the glass of water and downed it steadily. The quicker the water in, the quicker the laudanum out. She then moved to put out the flame in her lamp, but hesitated, wondering if Bonnie was correct about the light keeping her safe overnight.

“No. I must be brave,” she encouraged herself before extinguishing the flame.

Slipping down fully under her covers, Scarlett lay in the darkness, her soul calmed by the sweetness and reassurance of her husband and daughter–forgetting to even consider that Rhett’s kindness could be a part of a scheme to weaken her for a future attack. Slowly, her mind wandered to her twenty-first century friends and Rhett’s idea of a letter in which she could send a most essential message. What a perfectly brilliant idea! Scarlett was disappointed that she hadn’t thought of it herself.

The letter–most blessedly distracting–allowed Scarlett to relax without fear that night as she composed the message in her mind, rewriting and revising it over and over up until a satisfying sleep claimed her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe I need any warnings for this chapter. Wade's in it, and he's probably my favorite character in GWTW, besides the two leads, so I always love scenes involving his character. Also, a little time travel talk is coming up... Please enjoy!

                                                                                               Everything I Cannot See

 

Part Two

 

Chapter 17

 

No Mammy. No Prissy. No Dr. Meade. No Rhett. No Melanie.

Was the coast finally clear for Scarlett after almost forty-eight hours of forced bed rest under their watchful eyes? Scarlett strained her ears for the sounds of her guardians in the upper hall, but all seemed silent. Though, didn’t everything seem quieter after her restoration to 1871? Even in a house that–in her opinion–was overrun with children, there was a silence about her time, free of the humming sounds of motor vehicles, air conditioners, and appliances, which had seemed a bit unusual since her return.

Scarlett slipped out of bed and noiselessly crept over to her closet, fishing out her burgundy wrapper that nearly matched the color of her velvet portieres. She slid her feet into a pair of embroidered slippers, but after taking one step and hearing the slap of the mule against her heel and the subsequent clack against the wood floor, she decided against sporting the footwear. Her bare feet would have to suffice.

Now might be her first chance to compose that letter she had been desperate to complete. The sleep seemed to have restored her vitality, though no one would have believed that she could have recovered so quickly. Scarlett’s legs were a little shaky after the lack of use in recent days, but she had grown restless in her enormous bed and was begging for some new scenery. She had not been able to find sleep since after breakfast and felt that if she took some exercise now and cleared some of the thoughts running through her head, her body would again allow her to rest for a few contiguous hours. Certainly, she could have requested a lap desk for the composition, but then she would have had prying eyes all around and could not guarantee that her private words would be kept private. How would she explain the year _2011_ should someone see her handwriting?

Peering out into the empty hall, Scarlett soon picked up the sound of Rhett’s quiet, unhurried voice from behind the closed playroom door, and she knew that one or both of the girls were obediently listening to a tale without making much noise themselves. Whether the source of the story was a book or Rhett’s own inventive imagination, Scarlett could not tell. She hoped both Ella and Bonnie were occupied with their father so that she would not chance running into one of them downstairs. Of the servants, she knew she could handle Prissy or Pork if they happened to catch her out of bed, but it was Mammy that concerned her. The minute that Mammy set eyes on Scarlett running about the house in her bare feet, the lecture would begin. Well, Scarlett would just have to take the chance of being caught. Even attempting to wriggle out of that trap would be a relief to her boredom.

Scarlett tiptoed out of her bedroom, lifting the hem of her wrapper just far enough above the carpeted floor so as to not create a sound with the dragging of the heavy fabric. She placed her feet lightly as she made her way down the first few steps, glancing up once or twice to make sure no one was watching her from above. Once she reached the landing, she opted to grasp the fabric with one hand in order to cling tightly to the banister for the remainder of her stealthy descent. It was no use slipping and returning to 2011, though she could convey her message with her own voice instead of a pen in that case.

Nearing the bottom of the stairs, Scarlett spotted Pork outside the main entrance sweeping off the first of the fallen leaves that had blown onto the front porch. His concentration was focused on the ground below and he would not have noticed her, even if he had been facing toward the house. The second obstacle had been avoided, Scarlett thought triumphantly before turning down the hall in the direction of the library. Again, Scarlett rose to the balls of her feet and lifted the hem of her wrapper to silently creep along the carpet, knowing one or more of her servants could pass by at any moment. If only she could get close enough to a portiere, she surely could blend into the wall, much like her son had done at times to avoid a scolding by Mammy.

Once reaching the library, Scarlett quickly leapt in and away from the doorway so no passers-by would spot her, then headed in the direction of the office. She knew she was safe, for the room was generally fixed up in the very early morning, Rhett was upstairs, and Wade was–

“Great balls of fire!” Scarlett exclaimed in a loud whisper, clasping the palm of her hand to her chest to still her racing heart as she stood in the doorway to her office. A noise had startled her a moment before; the quiet sound of the pad of a finger running across a page in a book, the crisp sound of a turning page coming from the high-backed sofa. She now could see the source of the sound, which had been hidden from her as she’d entered the room.

“Why must sofas be positioned so in libraries!” Scarlett cursed to herself, having a brief recollection of another time when this particular piece of furniture had been a detriment to her. Only this time, the figure upon it was of a much smaller form.

“Wade Hampton!” Scarlett hissed as she slinked in his direction in order to hide herself behind the sofa back, too.

Wade pushed his upper body up from its lying position and retreated fearfully as Scarlett approached him, drawing his legs toward his chest.

“Why aren’t you at school?” Scarlett whispered, sitting herself on the cushion near her son’s feet and staring into his wide, guilty eyes.

“I…” Wade started, unsure how he wanted to explain his presence.

Scarlett put her finger up to her lips, signaling her demand for a quiet voice. How frustrating to have almost made it to the little office where she would certainly have been left in peace, only to be spotted by her truant son.

“Are you ill?”

Wade shook his head.

“Did Rhett allow you stay home?”

Wade again shook his head, remaining silent.

“Well, why are you here?” Scarlett asked in frustration.

“I…” Wade paused again, swallowing nervously, not sure how his mother would react to the truth. Everyone seemed to get so angry with him whenever he was concerned for her–apparently she did, too.

“Well?” Scarlett asked impatiently. “I pay enough for that school. I’d like to know that you’re not throwing my money away.”

No, this wasn’t going well, Wade thought, bowing his head shamefully. But, what else could he offer but the truth?

“I came home because…because you aren’t well,” Wade said quietly, staring down to the book in his lap.

“What do you mean, I’m not well?”

“You’re sick and I didn’t want to be at school if…if something happened,” he concluded in the faintest of whispers.

“Wade. Wade Hampton. Look at me,” Scarlett demanded. “Do I look sick?”

Wade obediently raised his eyes, noting Scarlett’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes that he loved so much. A relieved smile tugged against the corner of his lips, realizing that she was no longer the ailing woman he had watched in the last week or so.

Scarlett recognized the expression and a similar one grew on her lips, realizing Wade had been so concerned for her welfare that he had secretly stayed home in order to be near her should she take a turn for the worse. With that thought, Scarlett’s words became more serene.

“Were you here all of yesterday, too?”

Wade nodded shamefully, expecting another reprimand, but instead was met by a warm kiss to his forehead.

“Do you really worry so much about me?” Scarlett asked charmingly, taking Wade’s hand in hers.

Wade nodded again, dropping his eyes shyly.

“You’re a sweet boy to worry about your mother so. But, I’m much better now.”

Returning his eyes to Scarlett’s, he silently asked her if it were true.

“I truly am,” she reaffirmed. “I’ve come down, very secretly, however, to work on something in my office. I don’t want anyone to know, for you must know how everyone is fussing over me. They’d only drag me back upstairs if they found out. Why, they won’t let me leave my bed unless I need to…well…if I need to visit the bathing room,” Scarlett complained as modestly as possible.

She released Wade’s hand and raised herself just enough to peer over the back of the sofa toward the hall; all remained silent. Apparently her absence from her bedroom had not yet been discovered. Scarlett still had some time to write her letter; the composition already well rehearsed in her mind. It should take her no time at all.

“Wade,” Scarlett whispered, returning her attention to the small boy. “I’ll only need a few minutes. Can I ask a favor of you…should anyone come in search of me?”

Wade nodded, willing to do anything to help his very charming mother.

“If they step too close to my office, make known your presence and maybe that’ll distract them enough to stop searching for me. Drop your book or something,” Scarlett suggested, requesting that her son sacrifice himself for her. “Hopefully, they’ll be more concerned that you’re not in school. And Wade… After dinner, you’re to go back to school. Do you understand?”

Wade nodded dutifully.

“I’ll make your excuses, as I’m sure the headmaster will be contacting me soon, if he hasn’t tried already,” Scarlett concluded firmly, making her way to her office.

Once taking her seat behind the spacious desk–much in the manner of a queen, Wade thought– Scarlett swiftly pulled out a small sheet of notepaper and two envelopes, then flipped open the pewter inkwell, immediately touching pen to paper. No, it wouldn’t take but a few minutes, and once the letter had been sealed and hidden, Scarlett didn’t care if she was to be caught by any one of her guardians.

 

“Humph,” Mammy grumbled while exiting Scarlett’s bedroom. “That child’s goin’ to be the death of me.”

“Which child is that?” Rhett asked curiously, approaching Mammy from the open playroom door, passing Prissy who was on her way in to supervise the girls.

“Miss Scarlett.”

Rhett turned his head to glance into the empty bedroom.

“She do this to me time and again, Mist’ Rhett. Always disappearin’ when I won’t let her out of bed. Ever since she was a lil’ girl.”

“Disappearing?” Rhett asked with concern and a wrinkled brow.

“Runnin’ off. She can’t have got far, though. She didn’t even put her slippers on,” Mammy explained. “Runnin’ around in her bare feet, likely to catch a cold. She’s still in the house. I guarantee it. Jus’ tryin’ to rile me for not lettin’ her out of bed.”

“Are you sure you looked…” Rhett started, stepping into the bedroom and crossing over to the bathing room door, finding it open and the small room vacant.

“She ain’t in there,” Mammy called.

Rhett moved to the door of the closet, staring into the deep cavern padded with silk, satin, velvet, taffeta, faille, and moiré as if he either expected to find Scarlett there or would uncover some evidence of where she had gone off to depending on what article of clothing she had removed from the collection.

“Probably already back workin’ in her office. It’s where she’d been beggin’ to go earlier. I’ll check there first,” Mammy concluded, not waiting for Rhett’s nod in agreement, muttering her way to the stairs.

Instead of following Mammy out or leading a search upstairs, it seemed that Rhett had been drawn further into the closet by the sight of a glowing olive-green patch of fabric peeking out from a deep recess. He passed into the darkness as if under a contemplative spell.

 

By the time Scarlett heard Wade’s book thump to the floor, she had already kissed her sealed envelope for luck and hid it in a drawer. Later, she would place it amongst her most important papers for safekeeping. She probably would never know if the letter ever reached her intended recipients, but it was the best she could do for now, and just the act of writing down those words had eased her conscience. If it would only be given to Dylan Connolly a little less than 140 years from now, it would be a miracle. Her friends would not be forced to search all of Atlanta for her. They would not have to worry that she had somehow been in an accident or had died, disappearing without a trace. They would know that she was home with her people again.

“Mast’ Wade. You is a troublesome child! Why’re you not in school?” Mammy reproved, staring Wade down, who was now bravely standing in front of the sofa.

“I was worried about Mother,” he answered steadily, forcing himself not to look beyond Mammy to his mother’s office and accidentally give her away.

“She’s all better,” Mammy replied. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with her now. Now, you go on back to school before your mother finds out you been skippin’ your studies.”

Before Wade had a chance to respond, Mammy swung around toward the office. Wade clenched his teeth, trying to see beyond Mammy’s form, expecting his mother to have either hidden or to have slipped out the side door. He had not imagined that Scarlett would be standing in front of her desk with her arms crossed in front of her chest, defiantly staring Mammy down.

“So, I’m all better now, am I, Mammy?” Scarlett asked jocosely.

“Now, Miss Scarlett. Come on back to bed–”

“Why should I? There isn’t anything wrong with me now, is there?” Scarlett asked with a triumphant grin, diverted by being able to use Mammy’s words against her. “Was that not you speaking just now?”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you except for your head,” Mammy grumbled to herself, making it impossible for Scarlett to hear the words.

“I’m sorry. What was that, Mammy?” Scarlett teased, already knowing the sort of comment that had been muttered.

“Come on to bed, Miss Scarlett. A little more sleep won’t do you no harm.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw, balling her hands up into fists, giving every indication that she was about to throw a tantrum, the likes of which Mammy hadn’t seen since Scarlett’s youth. As she watched Mammy brace herself for the onslaught, Scarlett suddenly exhaled and painted the sweetest, most serene of smiles on her lips.

“You’re right, Mammy. I’ll return to bed.”

Scarlett nearly laughed out loud when she realized that she could have knocked Mammy over with the lightest of feathers with her obedient response. She stepped out of the office and curved her path around Mammy’s frozen form. Reaching her hand toward Wade, she did not notice him instinctively flinch at her approach as his mind was drawn back to the frightening days at Tara when Scarlett was more likely to offer a disciplinary slap than a loving caress; she had never been affectionate with him. But instead of a reprimand, Wade was astounded by the soft touch of her palm against his cheek and a wink in thanks for his loyal detainment efforts. When Scarlett turned to Mammy, she needed to stifle a lengthy yawn with the back of her hand. Before speaking once more, Scarlett squared her shoulders, giving herself an authoritative stance.

“I’ve asked Wade to return to school after dinner. See to it that he does, Mammy.”

Mammy nodded and followed Scarlett out of the library and up the stairs. Fatigue was beginning to set in fast as Scarlett reached the landing, the effort of climbing the stairs taking more out of her than she had expected. Perhaps she had not fully regained her vitality yet. Her lids were growing heavy as she neared her bedroom door, her only focus now being the downy pillows and plush blankets on her bed. Not expecting her path to be blocked, she nearly ran into Rhett when she crossed the threshold to her room.

“Pardon me,” Rhett said, swinging his body out of the way as if on the hinges of a doorframe, immediately recognizing that Scarlett would blindly attempt to walk through anyone or anything that blocked the way to her destination.

The search for her missing person must have been ongoing, across multiple floors, Scarlett decided, making an excuse for why Rhett had been in her room without her there.

“The prisoner has been returned to her cell,” Scarlett said flatly, not giving Rhett a further glance as she unhooked the front of her wrapper. “You may call off the search.”

Dropping the garment to the floor next to her bed, Scarlett contentedly crawled under the covers, and purred, “I’m so tired.” Her eyes closed before her cheek even hit the pillow, and she fell into another deep sleep in order for her body to recover the energy she had spent on her short but important jaunt downstairs.

 

*              *              *

 

It was the day before Ella’s birthday and Scarlett had been thankful that she had planned a small gathering since it had only been her first full week back to her store and mills. The production of a significant party was not something that she would have been physically up to at this point. Only Melanie, Ashley, and Beau had been invited to the celebratory supper.

As a result of her discussion with Ashley and the subsequent supportive visits by Melanie, Scarlett had decided to make peace with the woman and her family. Since their estrangement, Scarlett hadn’t exactly missed Melanie, or so she told herself, but somehow she had been lonelier without the woman’s company; especially now, after she’d lost the companionship of Carolyn, Jennifer, Peggy, and Sadie. And truthfully, Melanie had helped her get through this most recent difficult experience like no one else could have; Melanie had listened to her without judgment and had given Scarlett the comfort of her soothing arms, which Scarlett currently lacked from anyone else in her life. No other respectable woman in town would speak to Scarlett with the kindness that Melanie had always shown her, and honestly, Scarlett had missed the admiration. She, Scarlett, still might hold some gentlemen under her spell at times, but none of the women in present day Atlanta had been tricked by her charms for many years. Scarlett craved for someone to love and respect her; even if the source of that love was someone she could not completely respect or love in return.

In order to regain Melanie’s companionship, it was time to settle their differences; and besides, Scarlett reasoned, Rhett had been the main culprit in the entire affair that had separated the women. Why punish Melanie any longer for something she had been tricked into doing out of the goodness of her naive heart? Melanie’s stupidity still boggled Scarlett at times, yet she was unable to fully accept that Rhett had played her just as expertly the day she had decided to make the sale to Ashley. She hated to admit that she had been just as foolish as Melanie had when it came to Rhett’s manipulation. How could she, Scarlett O’Hara, have been as unguarded as Melanie Wilkes, the blindest woman in all of Atlanta? It was not right, for Scarlett knew that she was so much better and smarter than her gullible sister-in-law.

But after the last week, Scarlett had a difficult time clinging to the anger she felt for Rhett, too. His courtesy had been most welcome and soothing to her distressed mind. And when she professed that she was well enough to go back to work the day after her fainting spell, against Melanie’s pleadings and Mammy and Dr. Meade’s orders, Scarlett did not have enough time to raise her voice for Rhett immediately reassured her that he would take care of her businesses so she could rest through the remainder of the week. Scarlett couldn’t help but be a little wary about Rhett’s involvement in her endeavors. From now on, could she trust him to do what was in her best interest? No, she probably couldn’t; but there had been no other option at the moment. She had to have faith that her store and mills would survive her short absence, even if in the hands of a liar and a cheat.

There had been more nightmares sprinkled throughout the overnight hours, but just knowing that Rhett was in the next room willing to offer his support should she call for him gave Scarlett enough comfort to settle herself down on her own without seeking his assistance. She took to Melanie’s advice of talking herself out of the dream, reminding herself that the past was past and it could not hurt her anymore. Her health had been restored from that awful July, most likely through her brush with modern medicine, and she was now physically prepared to courageously fight whatever demons still lurked in the recesses of her mind. But Rhett had made it clear that if she should need him, she only had to ask. Could it be possible that his offer had been made in an effort to apologize for his part in what had been causing her nightmares? Scarlett did not think that Melanie had disclosed the details of those dreams to Rhett, and she, herself, certainly hadn’t, but something in his manner told her that he wanted to make amends. It was hard to fathom that Rhett would wish to apologize for anything, but maybe this was his way of doing it without actually saying the words. Lord knows it was nearly impossible for she, Scarlett, to find the right words whenever she owed an apology. Maybe Rhett was struggling like she always had.

Scarlett had to wonder how long this honeymoon period would last between the two of them before Rhett again took to his favorite pastime of teasing her, for he had not made a significant attempt in months and months. It was sure to happen at any moment now that she was better, and then she would remember why it was that she was supposed to hold onto her anger where Rhett was concerned. She was thinking about this as she approached the door to her home after a trying afternoon downtown. She braced herself, as she always had, before stepping into the vestibule to be greeted by Pork.

“ _Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth_ ,” came the voice from the upper hall after Scarlett had surrendered her bonnet, gloves, and shawl to Pork. Scarlett moved to the foot of the stairs and tilted her head back to peer up to the balustrade at the end of the long hall and caught sight of Rhett standing behind it staring down at her, a subtle smirk on the lips below his clipped mustache. Scarlett held his roguish eyes for a drawn-out moment before she reached for the banister. Was this when the goading would begin?

“To whom are you speaking? Surely not to me,” Scarlett called, wondering at the peculiar words as she climbed the steps. Coming from any other man, Scarlett might have taken the phrase as a loving compliment to a wife, but she knew that wasn’t so with Rhett.

“Why, to the lady Olivia, of course,” Rhett answered, bowing his head slightly when Scarlett returned her attention to him.

Olivia? Why had he said _Olivia_? Scarlett thought carefully, pausing briefly on the landing, struck by the name, wondering if she had spoken it when she had been unconscious. But then, Rhett had only asked about Dylan, not Olivia Connolly, hadn’t he?

“Oh, fiddle-dee-dee. Whatever you’re going on about, I’m not interested. I’ve spent the entire afternoon haggling with George Emerson on a price for the lumber for his new house. I’m in no mind for your games,” Scarlett responded tiredly as she resumed her short ascent, hoping to veer away from the topic. Instead of stopping to continue the exchange, Scarlett passed him without a further glance as if the conversation were over, and reached the doorway to her bedroom before his words again stopped her advance.

“It’s no game. I only thought you might like to rehearse your lines with me.”

Lines? What lines?

“I truly have no idea of what you are speaking,” Scarlett replied, turning to him in near exasperation. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“No…” Rhett spoke as he sauntered closer to her door, stopping to casually lean his shoulder against the wall beside her, his hands in his pockets. “No. The dress fit you quite nicely. It must have been intended for you. By the way, congratulations on winning the part of Olivia–it’s a rather fitting role don’t you think? There are a few similarities as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Rhett stated mockingly, a glint in his mischievous eyes. “Unfortunately, you cling to your Cesario, even after _his_ true nature has been revealed.”

“Olivia? Cesario? The part? How you do run on. Have you hit your head or something? You must know that you’re not making any sense. Perhaps it should be me that calls for Doctor Meade this time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to dress for supper.”

Scarlett pivoted on her toes and began to cross into the room when Rhett spoke once more, planting his feet just over the threshold, as if waiting for an invitation to move any further.

“I am unfamiliar with _Georgia Shakespeare_ , however. Is it the venue or the troupe? You haven’t been sneaking about with the Thespians all this time, have you?” Rhett teased. “This isn’t a Shakespeare Reading Circle production, is it? Miss Melly hasn’t said a word.”

Georgia Shakespeare. Why did that sound oddly familiar to Scarlett? Sucking in her lower lip between her teeth, she tried to force out the memory, but with Rhett breathing down her neck from five feet away, she couldn’t think straight.

“Troupe? Venue?” Scarlett asked quizzically, swinging around once more. “You have lost your mind! You’re speaking in riddles. This conversation is serving no purpose and it’s delaying me from changing for supper–and I’m hungry. Please, won’t you leave me alone?” Scarlett concluded, turning her back to him with her arms crossed protectively over her stomach, which was starting to somersault. Had she said something about young Olivia in her sleep? What was this about Shakespeare and a role and learning lines?

Scarlett inhaled sharply. Though inaudible to Rhett, he surely noticed her back stiffen. The costume! Rhett had seen the label in the costume she had worn for the Atlanta Irish Institute’s grand opening! Oh, she should have burned the garment…or the label at the very least, had she remembered that it was there. Yet, she had held onto the gown because of the happy memories associated with it. Never did she think Rhett would invade her privacy in that manner, especially when she had been too tired and weak to remain conscious. Had he inspected her closet while she had been sedated with the laudanum, unable to protest? Or was that the reason he was in her bedroom the day she had stolen away to compose her letter for Dylan? How dared he! What else might he have found? Surely he hadn’t been tempted to riffle through her hatboxes.

Now she clearly remembered that the proprietor of the shop in Marietta had told her that many of her costumes were the creations of various theaters in Atlanta, available for rent when not needed for stage productions. The dress she and Jennifer had chosen had been crafted for a _Georgia Shakespeare_ performance. Before dressing for her tours, Scarlett’s eyes had swiftly grazed over the label on the back of the dress, noting that the name of Olivia had been written on the tag and she’d thought it a happy coincidence or a bit of good luck.

 

                                    **Georgia Shakespeare – 2006**

Production: _Twelfth Night_

Character: _Olivia_

           

“ _Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool_.”

“Name of God! Won’t you leave me alone?” Scarlett growled, throwing her reticule to her bed, her temper rising as she turned to view Rhett’s intrusive figure blocking her door.

“You see I’m speaking the role of the clown. You should answer: _Can you do it?_ ”

“If you think I know what you’re running on about, you’re wrong. I’m not studying lines. I’m not performing in a play. I’m not rehearsing for the part of Olivia, whoever she is. Now, get out,” Scarlett said shortly, exhausted with Rhett’s prodding.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” she answered defiantly.

Scarlett saw the blur of Prissy’s figure approach the door, certain that Pork had sent her up knowing Scarlett would soon call for her maid. Rhett gave Prissy a testy glance and said, “Not now,” the intimidating voice causing Prissy to disappear from the hall without question.

“Coward,” thought Scarlett.

Rhett took a step into the room, uninvited, and closed the door behind him.

“Are you certain there isn’t something that I should know?” Rhett asked, only this time with a slightly menacing tone, as if signaling to her that she needed to answer correctly this time or there would be consequences.

“I– I asked you to leave this room,” Scarlett stated shakily. “Do you think it’s fine to bully me now that I’m rested? You’re right; you’re a clown. You’re a fool! Must you pounce on me the moment that I’m recovered? Couldn’t you even wait an entire week? I’m surprised you didn’t try this when I was trapped in my bed last week. I’m so tired of this. I still don’t have anything to tell you, Rhett. You’re so…so fixated on…on _nothing_ that you can’t see anything else.”

Rhett broke away to Scarlett’s closet, focused, determined, and emerged with the exact dress that Scarlett had been imagining with her mind’s eye.

“Is this nothing?” Rhett asked sternly, displaying the front of the rustling gown to her. “Do you see the frock I’m holding before you? Can you see it?”

“Rhett, you’re delaying supper. The children–”

“Mammy will see to the children,” Rhett replied shortly. “Do you see it?”

Scarlett stared at him with a rebellious air, her jaw again set rigidly.

Rhett then grabbed Scarlett’s wrist and brought her hand to the silky, beaded fabric of the skirt.

“Can you feel it? Are you going to tell me it’s a figment of my imagination?” he asked, squeezing the wrist just enough to coerce a reaction.

“Yes, I feel it,” Scarlett answered grudgingly, wrenching her arm from him, followed by the garment. In order to create some distance between herself and her husband, she moved up along the length of her bed and tossed the gown on top of the pillows. “My God, Rhett. A dress? You’re losing your mind over a dress? I thought this was over. Are you upset because you didn’t choose it for me?” Scarlett questioned with as much incredulity as she could muster. “I was told that the dress was in quite good taste; quite lovely. Surely you approve of it.”

“That has nothing to do with this. Where did you get it?” Rhett asked with a forced calmness, as if he too knew that he was overreacting.

Scarlett directed her eyes downward, her mind working beyond its capacity to come up with a secure answer. Oh, if only Rhett could be blind to one or two of her fabrications… But, no matter what she said, he would know she was lying.

“Why are you still pursuing this? Can’t you see that there’s nothing wrong?” Scarlett countered.

“Nothing wrong?” Rhett repeated; his eyebrows skeptically elevated as he sauntered nearer to her. “Ever since you returned from Tara you’ve been having nightmares. You cut your hair. You wore that theatrical creation,” he said pointing to the golden brown and green fabric strewn across the bed. “You haven’t been sleeping. You haven’t been eating. Just last week, you collapsed far from where anyone could truly help you. What if it had been more serious? What if you had been alone?”

“I’m fine,” Scarlett answered with a forced smile. She had the urge to back away from him, but the table by her bedside did would not allow it.

“Are you?”

“I’m eating aren’t I? I’m going to bed earlier than I have in years. Yes, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. But I don’t need to tell you this with you watching me like a hawk day and night.”

“Who made that gown?” Rhett asked, again pointing to the pile of fabric resting on the bed, leading Scarlett to a sigh. “Am I going to have to interview every dressmaker from Fayetteville to Savannah?”

“You won’t find the person who made it,” Scarlett answered, her confidence returning.

“No?”

“No. Would you like to lay a wager with me? I’d be happy to free you of some of your assets once you’ve completed your search.”

Rhett chuckled at her comment, probably realizing that he’d have to coerce the answers out of Scarlett with torture; she being so hard headed. Rhett moved closer to Scarlett to the point where his pant leg pressed into the skirt of her dress, his eyes never leaving hers.

Scarlett wondered what he intended to do now. Her eyes grew wider as he leaned closer in her direction; she held her breath…and her ground. Rhett instantly smiled at her courage before reaching to the bed and dragging the dress back into his possession, allowing Scarlett to breathe when he took a step back.   

“Georgia Shakespeare, two, zero, zero, six?” Rhett read as he examined the label again. “You did notice the label, did you not?”

Scarlett nodded.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Scarlett answered with a shrug of her shoulders. She could lie fairly successfully if the lie did not involve too many words.

“Why is it stitched inside of this frock?”

“I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you have this made?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Scarlett replied with finality. Scarlett took the garment from Rhett and unbuttoned the back to expose the interior. “If you had meddled with more care, you would have noticed that it was taken in to fit me,” she explained, showing Rhett the safety pins and provisional stitches near the seams that had reduced the circumference of the waist. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m not going to tell you why I was wearing it or where it’s from,” Scarlett said bravely, handing back the gown to Rhett, deciding that she would sink into murkier waters with him if she continued to forage for false answers. “I didn’t have it made. I suppose you could say that I was borrowing it for a short time, but due to unforeseen circumstances, it now belongs to me. That’s all you need to know about it.”

“Did you commit murder for it, my pet?” Rhett said, only partly joking.

“No,” Scarlett answered shortly with a pout. “I think I must again emphasize that my wearing of that dress does not affect you–or me–whatsoever, anymore than you wearing that particular waistcoat, so I don’t see why you’re carrying on about it.”

“Why I think this is a very handsome waistcoat. Are you telling me it’s having no affect on you?” Rhett smiled devilishly, as he noted her chest rising and falling from her quick breaths.

Scarlett sighed loudly, stilling her anxiety, and responded, “Well, actually, I preferred your old ones better–the brighter watered-silk ones. This is certainly fine, but it’s much too dull for my taste. It has _absolutely_ no affect on me.” Though she did not add that the man wearing the waistcoat was causing her some strange flutterings.

“Such honesty!” Rhett replied in mock surprise. “It’s a wonder, then, why you won’t tell me about this dress. Why are you so secretive if the truth would cause me no harm?”

“I just don’t think it’s necessary to say anything more about it,” Scarlett said with finality. “My, that sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Rhett?” Scarlett added after a thoughtful pause, hinting at all the times that Rhett had employed this method to bring closure to a topic that Scarlett had been interested in pursuing about her husband’s secretive life. “Clearly the dress once belonged to or was made by something called _Georgia Shakespeare_ , but that’s all I can determine.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to know anything about _Georgia Shakespeare_ would–”

“I don’t know anything about Shakespeare. You know that,” Scarlett interrupted, her eyes and lips smiling playfully, hinting at the ignorance that Rhett frequently relished in pointing out to her. It was extremely difficult–nearly impossible–to make fun of herself, but if it would serve a purpose she could force herself to do it.

Rhett held her coquettish gaze for a moment before drawing his eyes back to the label and expelling a chuckle. Of course he knew what she was trying to do. That sort of distraction worked with Rhett for only a limited time. But her actions did ignite a little thrill in being able to again ply her little used skills on the opposite sex. It had been ages since she’d been compelled to play the unenlightened female.

“What peculiar tales you tell, my dear. Two-zero-zero-six. Two thousand six. It almost sounds as if it could represent a year.”

“Or possibly an item number?” Scarlett added quickly.

Rhett glanced at her, disbelieving. A sparkle returned to Scarlett’s eyes when she thought of a way to have a little fun with the idea and attempt to cut into Rhett’s seriousness. Maybe he would forget all about his inquest and they could move on with the evening. Why not give Rhett a glimpse at the truth and observe his reaction? Why not test the waters? With his rejection of the item number idea, clearly he was looking for a more illogical explanation.

“I see I’ll have to tell you the truth,” Scarlett sighed with exaggeration, curving around Rhett and settling herself on the edge of the bed. Rhett instinctively sat beside her, his weight drawing her body nearer to him until Scarlett latched her hand to the footboard. He focused his dark eyes on her as if expecting Scarlett to finally show some candor. Scarlett stared straight ahead, losing her gaze in the carpet before her. “You see, well… Have you ever thought about the possibility of traveling through time to the future?” she asked, turning up her innocent eyes at him. “Say to two thousand six? You see…” She hesitated. “I was sent to the future and came home with this gown. I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s the only explanation.”

Rhett cleared his throat as he stood after seeing a bit of jest creep out from behind Scarlett’s eyes; he dropped the gown next to Scarlett and took steps toward the fireplace.

“Don’t you believe me?” Scarlett pouted with extreme exaggeration in both her lips and her voice.

“I never thought you to have such an imagination, my pet. My greatest of apologies for underestimating you; you seem to have acquired one very recently.”

“Don’t you think it possible?” she asked enthusiastically.

“All right, Scarlett,” Rhett said, returning his attention to her. “You can put a stop to your fanciful tale–”    

“You’re saying you don’t believe me?” Scarlett asked with another coquettish pout.

“No, I don’t believe you,” he said, clearly attempting to mask his amusement.

Scarlett smiled widely enough to signal confirmation to him that she had been joking. It was no use to allow him to become too suspicious of her mind again.

“Have you never thought of it?” Scarlett asked eagerly, expressing that her entire interest rested in the theoretical.

“Thought of what?”

“Traveling to another time?”

“Have you recently heard someone discussing _A Christmas Carol_? I can’t think of how your limited mind could have journeyed down this road otherwise.”

“ _A Christmas_ –? Oh, I see. That man sees the future beyond his own life–”

“And his past.”

“Oh, I never thought of that. I wonder if it truly works in that order, too?” Scarlett said, now not thinking of a Dickens’ character, but of her own self. Could she travel back to the finest time in her life: her childhood? To see her mother and father again… To know that security… What she wouldn’t give for that opportunity. Though, she supposed she would be her current age if she were able to visit, never experiencing the joyful age of seven again.

“Scarlett, stop. They’re all fairy stories. Fantasies. What’s now is now. What happened in the past is the past. And we’ll never know what it’s like to live one-hundred years from now.”

“Well, aren’t you rigid,” Scarlett said with surprise and a little disappointment, rising from the bed with the gown in her hand. “Wasn’t it you who told me about, oh, some religion where they believe that after they die they’ll come back to life in a different body? That’s a bit like traveling through time.”

“Yes, the Hindu religion; I mentioned it, but I never said I believed in it.”

“Well, I can’t help it if your mind is closed to such possibilities,” Scarlett said with an air of superiority. If only she could have told him what she knew. For once, Rhett Butler would have been proven wrong, and for once, she might have been able to shock him. Though she could already tell that the shock would come from Rhett discovering that his wife was insane; his responses had made that very clear. Rhett was so confident in his mind that if he didn’t believe in something, it wasn’t true.

“What if all time was happening at once?” Scarlett asked, seating herself again on the bed, this time near the headboard as she remembered something either Carolyn or Sadie had told her. She dragged her hand across a large portion of the dark walnut panel and continued, “What if all time was stretched out on a surface like this–from the beginning until the end?” she theorized. Touching her right thumb down, she said, “And right here is when your favorite grandfather was born, and here is where we’re at right now,” Scarlett said, pressing down her index finger to the right of her thumb. “What makes you think we can’t jump from one to the other if there’s a bridge, like my hand, connecting them?”

 “It’s not possible,” Rhett said confidently.

“Well, aren’t you forward-thinking! You surprise me, Rhett.” Recalling her encounter with her great-great granddaughter, Marilyn Enright, Scarlett said, “Wouldn’t you like to meet your grandfather, even if for a short time? I’d like to meet Grandma Robillard.”

“I’ve always thought you a very practical person, Scarlett, but I’m afraid I need to remind you that what we want and what is possible are two different things. And how do you propose to travel to the end of the eighteenth century or the earliest part of this one? What sort of bridge could you take?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Scarlett pondered, then decided to throw out the truth. “Possibly a staircase? What do you think?”

“A staircase?” Rhett laughed.

“Well, it does take a person from one level to another,” Scarlett reasoned logically, clasping the gown to her lap.

“It’s not possible,” Rhett repeated. “I’ve traveled many staircases in my life, and I’ve always been stuck in this life.”

Scarlett looked up to him contemplatively after his near bitter words, wondering if he had been disappointed in his life. Maybe there had been times when he would have preferred to be somewhere else far away from anything he had ever known. Scarlett again wished that he could have traveled with her to the future. What fun Rhett would have had, and surely he would have carried her along with him on whatever adventures he would have sought. Then, she might have seen more of the fun in it, too.

“Well…” Scarlett said before unlocking her eyes from his and rising from the bed to return the gown to its peg in the closet. “I think you’re wrong and I’d like to make a wager on it,” she said before entering the dark cavern.

“And what would be your proof?” Rhett called, playing along. “Wouldn’t you have to present this _bridge_ you’ve imagined?”

“Hmm, I’ll have to think on it for a little while, but I’m sure there’s something I could do to prove it…something other than a dress from two thousand six, since you aren’t accepting that as proof,” Scarlett said with a good-natured smile as she stepped out of the closet, smoothing the emerald watered-silk skirt of her dress. She could tell that Rhett’s mood had improved considerably since she had turned on her charms–and her supposedly inventive imagination–and she hoped that the discussion about the dress had come to an end.

“This conversation just proved something to me.”

“Proved what?” Scarlett asked with interest.

“That you’re not quite the Scarlett O’Hara that I have always known.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that you’re speaking as if you could be a contemporary of Copernicus or our most recent scientist to agitate the status quo, Mr. Darwin. I never took you for a forward-thinker before, Scarlett. It’s not in your nature.”

“Who are you to say what’s in my nature?” Scarlett asked defensively. “I’m not so close-minded as you, apparently.”

“Perhaps not,” Rhett replied, seeming pleasantly surprised by the thought. “But you couldn’t have come up with these conjectures alone.”

“Well, of course not. For I have no mind of my own, do I?” Scarlett began sarcastically, though with a smile on her face. “I think… I think it was a soldier I was nursing that talked about it,” Scarlett easily lied, only because the soldiers talked to her about so many odd things during the war years that it was entirely possible that she had heard of this subject before. “Though, now that I think about it again, I suppose he might have been delirious.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m famished, Rhett,” Scarlett sighed, snipping the thread on the topic. “Will you please send Prissy in?” she asked, turning toward the closet to choose her evening dress. “I don’t want to delay supper any further.”

“It seems you think this discussion is over,” Rhett stated. His eyes burned into her back, causing her to turn around.

“No. It’s probably not; though there’s really no point to it all,” Scarlett said gloomily. “But it’s over for tonight,” she insisted. “Would you like me to faint again? For I feel like I might after this trying day if I don’t get anything to eat in the next few minutes. I assumed you’d be happy to know that I want to eat and I know you wouldn’t want to delay me from it. And Ella’s party is tomorrow and–”

“All right. All right,” Rhett yielded, as if he really wanted to say, ‘Excuses… Excuses…’

Scarlett smiled brightly and disappeared into her closet.

“But, don’t think I’m just going to forget about this.”

“Of course you won’t,” Scarlett called in a cheerful voice. “Please send Prissy up,” she repeated.

Rhett paused for another moment, as if waiting for Scarlett to once again emerge from the closet, but left with a chuckle once realizing that Scarlett was going to hide from him until he left the room.

“Thank you, Rhett!” Scarlett called once she knew he had passed into the hall. She smiled at the sound of Rhett’s genuine laughter echoing outside of her door, which she hadn’t heard in months and months.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another of my favorite chapters. I don't think there are any necessary warnings. Please enjoy! Oh, and if you catch some text repeating in the chapter, please let me know where it is so I can edit it out. For some reason, when I copy and paste here, text is often repeated. Oh, and one more thing. Towards the end of this chapter, I've borrowed heavily from Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind, chapter 58, I think. All credit to her.

Part Two

 

Chapter 18

 

Five years old! How did Scarlett already have a daughter turning five…and a son that was growing closer to ten each day? Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was the young, careless girl lounging on the porch of Tara with Stuart and Brent Tarleton? A lifetime ago. To think back to the period surrounding Wade’s birth, Scarlett could barely even remember that world. So much had happened. So much had changed. Ten years seemed such a short time, yet so much had filled the decade. In the last ten years, she had been married twice and widowed once, she had lost both of her parents, she had become a mother three times, and she had set herself on a taxing journey to become arguably the most successful businesswoman in Atlanta. Of course there was never a question that she would have done whatever necessary at the time to save Tara, especially when the wolves were at the door, but she realized her motivation had been doubled by the fact that she had a family–a son–to support.

It was difficult to remember a time, now, when she did not have children clinging to her skirts. A day that she clearly remembered from the last decade was the day that Ella was born, five years ago, today. It was not necessarily the details she recalled, but rather her emotions. She thought, ashamedly, that it had been one of the most depressing days of her life when she knew there was now officially another mouth to feed. But today, Scarlett was truly happy to be celebrating Ella’s birthday–really any of her children’s birthdays–knowing it was only by chance that she was having another opportunity to do so. Scarlett knew how important it would have been for her to have her own mother, Ellen, there to celebrate her next birthday; Scarlett somewhat hoped that Ella felt the same about her own mother’s presence.

Reminded of her own birthday, Scarlett realized hers was now less than three weeks away. Twenty-seven! My, was she getting old! Scarlett glanced into one of the front hall’s many gilded mirrors and pressed her hands to her warm, pink cheeks. At this moment she was glad she hadn’t been raised in modern times when it seemed as if one took a photograph of oneself daily. What a horror it must be to have at your fingertips images of yourself spread out over ten years providing perceptible evidence of how much you had changed.

What was it that Peggy Byrne had once said: ‘You’re only as old as you feel’? Scarlett feared that the last ten years had made her lean further in the direction of thirty-five rather than twenty-five. She was certain that many of the difficulties of life had been etched into her skin. Had she had another chance to meet her mother now, she feared Ellen would not recognize her. Forcing a smile, Scarlett ordered herself to be happy that no wrinkles had shown themselves yet, though she feared they were hiding just below the surface and would emerge in the not-too-distant future.

“And then what?” she asked her reflection.

“Then death,” she answered back gloomily, equating the loss of her youthful skin with the end of her life.

Death… Disappearing… Disappearing? Could that strike again?

Bonnie and Rhett had taken their time exiting the dining room following dinner, but caught up to Scarlett as she stood frozen in front of the mirror.

“Is she the fairest of all the ladies in the land?” Rhett whispered to Bonnie, but loud enough for Scarlett to notice and break her of her dreary spell; she turned her attention away from her reflection.

“Pretty,” Bonnie answered, smiling brightly, as if her mother was one of the magical queens in her fairytales.

When Scarlett’s mind caught up to the reference Rhett was making, she pressed her lips together for a moment and then said, “Stop teasing,” though she hadn’t really meant it. His teases had been few and far between since she had returned home and she had grudgingly missed them; life didn’t seem normal without this nuisance.

“I don’t think Bonnie is teasing. Are you, sweetheart?” Rhett asked.

“No,” Bonnie answered, using her favorite word.

“Oh, Rhett, you know I wasn’t referring to her. And don’t encourage her. I can barely stand it from one of you. I don’t need two of you in this house,” Scarlett replied, turning to the mirror again to smooth a curl in her bangs. “And I know you’re teasing because I know you hate my hair and think me unattractive this way.”

“Have I said anything of the sort?” Rhett asked calmly.

“You didn’t have to; you always have such a peculiar look when I catch your eyes on my bangs. I still have the temptation to flee every time your attention turns to them for fear of what you’ll do. Though, I figure if you haven’t taken my hair from me yet, I might possibly be safe,” Scarlett said, continuing to smooth the stray wisps.

“You might be surprised to know that I _don’t_ hate it.”

With his comment, Scarlett returned her attention to her husband, proving that his revelation had had the expected effect.

“Though, I do prefer it the way it was before,” Rhett added.

“You prefer traditional elegance to a passing fancy,” Scarlett stated, translating Sadie Grier’s sentiments.

Rhett nodded in concurrence, seemingly pleased to see that Scarlett had understood his view.

“Well,” Scarlett began, turning to face the mirror once more. “I like it this way, but I’ll probably grow them out again. I suppose I’ll get bored with the fashion after a while.”

“Uncle Rhett!” Ella called after bursting through the door below the stairs, emerging from the hall that would one day house Dylan Connolly’s office. “Cookie’s frosting my cake!” Ella announced excitedly. “She let me have a spoonful,” she whispered, thinking her mother might have something to say about that.

“No doubt,” Rhett replied, smiling at her liveliness.

“I want some, too,” Bonnie directed up to her father as she tugged his pant leg.

“You’ll have some later, after supper.”

As Scarlett watched the fond interaction between Rhett and the girls, her thoughts returned to what she had been pondering before Rhett and Bonnie had interrupted her. She now remembered that very important subject she had forgotten to discuss with Rhett. Granted, she had been angry with him for most of the past month, and she was still none-too-pleased with the man, but what other option had she when nothing was certain in this life? Scarlett lifted a small timepiece up from her simple chatelaine. She had wanted to return to the store immediately after dinner to have enough time to do an inventory on her fabrics before the party, but decided that it could be postponed for a short time.

“Rhett,” she interrupted. “I want to talk to you.” After drawing his attention away from the girls, Scarlett requested, “Ella, will you please take your sister upstairs with you?”

“No!” Bonnie rebelled, reaching her short arms up to her father in order for him to pick her up. “Stay with Daddy.”

“What is it, Scarlett? Something about the party?” Rhett asked, moving in Scarlett’s direction with the girl in his arms.

“No,” Scarlett answered, staring into her daughter’s blue eyes, charming even when they were staring her mother down. Bonnie tightened her possessive grip on Rhett’s shoulders.

“Is it something to be kept secret from B.O.N.N.I.E.?” Rhett asked smiling.

“No. Well, maybe… No,” Scarlett said, shifting her eyes in contemplation. “No, it’s not really a secret of any sort, but it does concern her, partly.” After Pork crossed the hall, heading in the direction of the front entrance, Scarlett determined that this discussion should take place without interruption, and preferably without an audience. “Can we go to the sitting room?”

“With or without Bonnie?” Rhett asked generously.

When Bonnie circled her arms tighter around her father’s neck, Scarlett said, “It appears _with_ ,” fearful of a tantrum, which in turn might make her change her mind in order to save the sanity of her older children in the long term. “Though, I would prefer otherwise,” she added.

Rhett stepped away with Bonnie. Calling Ella to him, he lightly set Bonnie down to the carpet next to her sister. Quietly, he discussed matters with the two girls, negotiating terms with the small two-year old. Whatever the resolution was, it had saved them all from a fit from the younger girl. Scarlett watched as Ella took Bonnie’s hand in hers and assisted her slowly up the stairs, their dresses springing with each step. Rhett watched them until they were safely on the second floor and greeted by Mammy before turning to Scarlett.

“Your wish is my command.”

As they made their way to the sitting room, Scarlett couldn’t help but smile at Rhett’s cleverness with the children, and she knew she had made the right decision.

“So, what is this about?” Rhett asked after he closed the door, his attention directed to Scarlett’s straight back as she stood near a northern window. She was looking out past the veranda to the tops of the trees; the browning leaves were a clear sign that fall had arrived. She, for one, was glad to be putting this particular summer behind them.

Scarlett turned and said, “Why don’t we sit?” directing Rhett to the pair of chairs, one placed on either side of the fireplace. Rhett didn’t say anything as he moved to a chair, but his eyes told her of both his apprehension and suspicion upon realizing that she was not to broach a trivial subject.

As Scarlett settled herself across from him, she glanced down to her folded hands in her lap for a brief moment in order to think of what to say next. She had not planned out this discussion in any way since she had first had the thought a month ago, but she knew it was necessary and if she didn’t do it now, she may never have another opportunity. Her recent experience had altered her philosophy; no one knew what tomorrow would bring. She must prepare for the worst.

“Rhett, I’d meant to ask you about this earlier, a while back, but…well, we’ve had plenty of diversions lately, haven’t we?” She forced a smile, but Rhett did not reply in kind as she had hoped. Instead he remained stone-faced, unreadable as ever. “What I wanted to– What I’d like to discuss is the children and their situation, should I– If I am not able to–” she struggled. Scarlett paused for a breath. “Should I not be able to care for them, I don’t want them separated.”

Rhett sat in stunned silence, his dark eyes scanning Scarlett’s earnest face. This had certainly not been what he’d been expecting to hear. The perplexity of Scarlett’s statements had left him mute, making the room uncomfortably quiet. With the only sound being the second hand on the mantle clock ticking with regularity, Scarlett was compelled to add her voice again and make some sense of her words.

“If I cannot be with them, I don’t want– What I mean to say is, I would like you to raise Wade and Ella should they lose me.”

Rhett finally showed some movement, leaning his body forward, as if ready to spring himself in her direction; though he refrained from rising, he clenched his hands into fists, his entire body tense.

“My God, Scarlett, you’re not–? Has Doctor Meade–? What’s wrong with you?” Rhett quietly demanded, his searching eyes wide with worry, hunting for signs of weakness.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re ill? You’re–”

“Ill?” Scarlett repeated, followed by a spirited laugh once she realized how her words had sounded as if she was announcing her imminent death. “Oh, no, I– I’m not sick. Why, I’m as well as I’ve ever been,” she said smiling. Rhett appeared hurt, as if he had been caught in a joke. But it wasn’t a joke and Scarlett began to apologize, “I’m sorry if I made it sound as if I were–”

“Then, why are you–? What are you saying?” Rhett asked confusedly, retreating back into the chair.

“Only that I want you to raise the children should I not be here. I don’t want them separated. I want your promise that you’ll keep Wade and Ella with you and Bonnie.”            Scarlett breathed in deeply, dropping her shoulders and her eyes while she exhaled. There, she’d said it. She couldn’t have been any clearer. Surely, Rhett would agree to her request.

“I wish Wade and Ella had been yours,” she casually stated. When she returned her attention to Rhett, she noticed that a strange light had filled his eyes. Thinking back on what she had just said, Scarlett realized that her statement needed clarification. “Then it wouldn’t be so complicated, you see?” she affixed. The light dimmed. “Will you promise me?”

Rhett was again immobile, blindly gazing in her direction as he processed her words. But, slowly, his head began to nod.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Rhett swallowed with effort, and added, “You have my word.”

Scarlett offered him a genuine smile and her shoulders lowered even further, glad that the weight had been removed; the matter had been settled.

“Thank you. You don’t know how you’ve eased my mind,” Scarlett said, rising from her chair and smoothing her skirt as if the conversation had concluded.

Rhett furrowed his brow and rose from his position, too, stepping closer to Scarlett and continued, “Why are you asking this of me now if you’re not ill? Why would you need my…” Rhett’s expression gradually turned to enlightenment. “You’re– You’re going away. You’re leaving.” His last statement was said as if it were an accusation.

“Leaving?” Scarlett repeated, never before having seen quite such a look flash in Rhett’s eyes–one of shock and an odd fear. He certainly wasn’t joking, but where would he get such an irrational idea? “To where? Where would I go?”

Rhett did not answer and instead used the moment to compose himself after it had appeared as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs. He quickly tried to conceal his resentment, but Scarlett couldn’t help but notice his eyes focus on her left hand, her finger still absent a wedding band.

“Rhett,” Scarlett began, uneasy laughter coating her voice. “Leaving? Where would I go when my whole life is here?” she asked, her green eyes burning into to his blank expression. “And if I _were_ to go, do you think I’d abandon my children?”

“Then…” Rhett began, lost in the organization of his thoughts, surely noting how irrational they had been a moment before. “God,” he whispered, turning away. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do. Ever since– For the last month–” Rhett paused, exhaling in recognition of his impotence in understanding the strange enigma before him. “If you’re not ill, if you’re not leaving, why are you asking this of me now?”

“Because it’s important,” Scarlett answered with ease, almost as if that was all that needed to be said. She hadn’t meant to rattle Rhett’s nerves like this, but she now realized how everything she had said had come across as if she was preparing him for her immediate departure. “I know you might not think it in my character to be concerned for the children, but it might surprise you that I do consider their welfare from time to time. I thought it would be wise to discuss this with you before– Well, something could happen to me. If I should happen to…well…disappear from their lives–”

“Why do you keep using those words: _disappear_ , _not able to be with them_ , _not able to care for them_? Don’t you mean–?” Rhett cut himself off.

Scarlett knew that death wasn’t the only reason why her children might lose her, but how could she ever explain the most bewildering alternative option?

She subtly nodded.

“Yes, I suppose that’s all I could mean. Would you rather I use the word?”

When her eyes met his, Rhett turned. With his back to her, he said, “No. No, I’d prefer that you didn’t,” his voice void of emotion.

“I’m only trying to settle my affairs so I don’t have to worry about what might happen to Wade and Ella,” Scarlett explained as Rhett slowly increased the space between them. “I may live to one-hundred and meet my great-grandchildren, but if I don’t… I never thought that I’d lose my mother when she should have had so much time left. I couldn’t have imagined that Careen would have lost her at the age of sixteen. And truly, we all lost Pa at the same time. Suellen and Careen, they had no one to turn to, so they had to turn to me. I want Wade and Ella to be able to turn to you. I’m only, well– My mother was only about eight years older than I am now when I lost her. I thought I’d have her forever, but I didn’t.”

“That’s not going to happen to you,” Rhett stated, falsely confident, as he stared out a window watching the wind tumble a trio of leaves across the yard. Rhett rubbed his hands over his cheeks and down along his strong jawline, before slipping his clenched fists into his pockets, lost in his thoughts. “It won’t happen. It won’t happen,” he repeated quietly, as if trying to convince himself of it and somehow grant Scarlett immortality.

“But it almost did!” Scarlett blurted out, unthinking.

She watched Rhett’s dark head tilt forward in remembrance, as if physically pained by the memory, as if she had just struck him hard in the stomach. For some reason, the sight nearly brought tears to her eyes and she felt a foreign urge to close the distance between them and comfort him. Why had she found it necessary to bring up that memory? She had not desired to hurt Rhett, now of all times. Her words had not been meant as an accusation, but perhaps Rhett had heard them that way. Remembering Melanie’s reasoning for why she thought Rhett had not allowed himself to come to her side after the miscarriage, Scarlett decided that Rhett had truly accepted guilt in the matter–even though he had not been able to bring himself to apologize. She’d had plenty of time to think on the subject in 2011 during her recovery. Yes, he was to blame; his words and actions had triggered the argument, but she could not easily wash her hands of the guilt entirely. Scarlett had to do something to draw them out of this memory and lighten Rhett’s somber mood. It did them no good to dwell on the incident. They couldn’t do anything to change the outcome, no matter how much Scarlett wished that they could.

“But I’m very well, now, as you can see. And it’s likely that I’ll live a long and fortunate life,” she announced optimistically. When Rhett finally returned his attention to her, Scarlett pirouetted a little too quickly in a display of her health; her center of gravity pulled her backwards and she had to steady herself with a step. After a giggle, she joked, “I’m well, except for my grace, it seems. And I haven’t even had a drop to drink! I wonder how I’ll fare after I’ve had a glass of wine tonight?”

Rhett smiled warmly, appreciatively, but his closed lips kept him silent.

“Well, I do need to run to the store for a bit,” Scarlett said peeking at her timepiece anxiously. “I promise to be back by five at the latest–per your orders,” Scarlett teased, hinting at Rhett’s request that she keep shorter days.

He nodded, slowly moving in her direction.

“Thank you so much, Rhett–for your promise. You don’t know how it eases my mind to know that Wade and Ella can remain with you.”

Scarlett turned toward the door before Rhett’s hesitant voice stopped her.

“Why me?”

“Pardon?” Scarlett asked as she strained her neck to glance back at him before rotating her entire body.

“Why do you want me to raise them? I understand your reasons for dismissing notions of your dear sister, Sue, but why not Miss Melly? She is their godmother.”

Rhett was right. Melanie would have been the perfect choice. She was family–at least to Wade–and she had been helping with Ella since the day the ginger-haired girl was born. Scarlett briefly wondered why she hadn’t been having this conversation with Melanie instead of with Rhett. Second-guessing herself, Scarlett thought of the deep bond between Rhett and Bonnie, and wondered if it wouldn’t be better for Wade and Ella to be apart from that. How could they ever compete with their younger sister? How could she, Scarlett, ever compete with her youngest daughter?

With a sudden inhale and exhale, she cleared away that last thought, not sure from where it had originated. Now was not the time for this most unnatural twinge of jealousy.

Scarlett shook her head subtly and turned her thoughts to her sisters.

How strange it would have been to have grown up with Suellen in the same home but have had Aunt Eulalie raise Careen in Charleston. They never would have truly known each other, and that just didn’t sit right with Scarlett…unless–she thought with a smirk–her younger sisters had been reversed in that scenario.

“Ah, so you’ve changed your mind,” Rhett decided, pretending to read her expression. “You’ve narrowly escaped a perilous mistake.”

“No. No,” Scarlett repeated, shaking her head. “I haven’t changed my mind–unless you have? I never even thought to properly ask. Of course you have no obligation to them. Why, they would be a burden to you, I suppose. I suppose you expect that they’d go to their aunts or– Maybe you don’t want them. Maybe–”

Rhett bravely placed his hands against Scarlett’s shoulders to still her words when worry crept back into her eyes.

“I want them, Scarlett. I want them,” he reassured.

“Oh,” Scarlett responded, flushing at Rhett’s touch, somewhat surprised by his answer. “Oh, well…well…good. I’m glad. You are very good with the children, you know? Wade adores you and you’re the only father Ella has ever known. You’re their family now. And, of course, Bonnie is their sister. Why should they be separated from each other? Why should they be separated from you?”

“They shouldn’t,” was Rhett’s simple reply before he withdrew his hands.

Scarlett smiled gratefully.

“But this conversation does lead to another important one; one we should have had after Bonnie was born.”

“What’s that?” Scarlett asked curiously.

“What if the children lost us both?”

“Us both…? Oh, almost like when we lost Mother and Pa.” Scarlett thought for a moment, focusing her eyes on the carpet below her feet. “Well, Melly, of course,” Scarlett said, returning her eyes to Rhett’s. “She’s Bonnie’s godmother, too. Melly loves Bonnie so much, and Bonnie loves her. You wouldn’t object to her, would you?”

Rhett shook his head.

“Or we could consider my mother.”

“Your mother? Would she take Wade and Ella, too?” Scarlett asked skeptically.

“She would.”

“How are you so certain? They aren’t anything to her. She doesn’t even know them.”

“Of course they’re something to her. They’re my children–or stepchildren–essentially her grandchildren. I’m sure she would feel, as we do, that the children should not be separated. I have no doubt that Mother would gladly invite them all into her home. However, I’m sure you’d like them to remain in Atlanta.”

“Yes. Well, it is their home. Charleston is quite nice,” Scarlett lied, “and Aunt ‘Lalie and Aunt Pauline are there, I suppose, but…well, sending them to the Coast might be disruptive to them for a while. And to take Wade away from his Hamilton family and Ella– Well, she– I mean–”

“We’ll consider Mother or my sister as an option should Miss Melly not be able to fulfill those duties,” Rhett interrupted, assisting Scarlett as she ran out of excuses.

Scarlett nodded, glad that they had found some common ground today.

“I’ll make sure to speak with Melly, soon, and let her know of our wishes.”

“And I’ll write to Mother and Rosemary. Then, we can finalize our plans with my lawyer.”

Scarlett smiled warmly. Everything had gone as she had hoped–even better than she had hoped. How nice and refreshing it was not to quarrel with Rhett and instead come to an agreement about something–several things, actually. They didn’t always need to stand on opposite sides of an issue.

“Well,” Scarlett voiced with a pleased sigh. “Now that this is settled, I really must get to the store,” she announced swiftly before turning away. “I’ll see you this evening,” she called as she made her way into the hall to seek out her shawl, bonnet, and gloves to protect her from the slight chill in the October air.

After the front door clicked shut, Rhett voiced quietly, “You do continue to surprise me, Mrs. Butler.”

*              *              *

The harmony that Rhett and Scarlett had found that afternoon was unfortunately somewhat lost a few hours into Ella’s birthday supper. The source of the fresh discord surprisingly involved one of the elements they had agreed upon earlier in the day; the source of the disagreement was the behavior of one Bonnie Butler.

Bonnie had been allowed to stay up later than normal to enjoy a piece of the birthday cake at the dining room table, mostly standing upon her chair and leaning over the table, which Scarlett felt was inappropriate, especially when they had guests. When she encouraged Bonnie to sit like a lady on the raised cushions that had been provided for her, Rhett interjected, deciding for the both of them that Bonnie should be allowed to do as she wished. Embarrassed by Rhett’s public disregard of her request, Scarlett’s frustration only increased because she was unable to call him out in front of the Wilkeses. How would she ever succeed in training Bonnie when Bonnie’s father always contradicted her instructions?

The young girl had only had a few bites of the spice cake before rejecting it, but had taken to the honey-flavored buttercream frosting. Rhett had generously let her spoon up the remaining frosting from his plate, and when that had been consumed, Bonnie leaned over toward Ella’s plate and aimed her spoon at the remaining bite of frosting there. Naturally, Ella yanked her plate away from her younger sister and lightly shoved her away with a “No!” It was a very rare occasion when Bonnie was told _no_ , and so Ella’s response immediately led to a tantrum from the young Butler for everyone to see, her plate, remaining cake, and spoon crashing to the floor in her rage. While Scarlett knew Bonnie should be reprimanded, Rhett coddled her instead.

He carried the shrieking girl from the room, leaving Scarlett to deal with the aftermath. Scarlett rose from her chair, red-faced, watching Pork clean up the shattered china from the floor, and immediately expressed her apologies for the disruption. What she wouldn’t have said to Rhett had he not left the room–even in front of the guests! Yes, thankfully he had left the dining room, otherwise she would have withdrawn her wishes from earlier in the day and would have accused him, in advance, that if he had custody of the children, he would let Bonnie take food from Wade and Ella’s plates and let them starve. Of course, rationally, she knew that Rhett would never let them go hungry, but he certainly would show favoritism to his daughter as he had tonight. He hadn’t asked Bonnie to apologize to Ella for her actions, and Scarlett wondered if he even would tell her that what she had done was wrong. The girl needed discipline and Scarlett did not know how Bonnie was to get it when Rhett’s behavior nearly encouraged her to keep acting up, knowing there would be few, if any, consequences from the only person that really mattered to her.

“He probably brought her into the kitchen to reward her with another treat before putting her to bed,” Scarlett thought, sulking in her seat. As she stared at Bonnie’s empty chair on this particular occasion, Scarlett remembered that she had completely missed her daughter’s second birthday because Rhett had stolen her away to New Orleans and Charleston. Scarlett didn’t even know which town Bonnie had been in during June, though she suspected it was Charleston. Only one Mrs. Butler had been allowed to share the girl’s second birthday with Rhett and it happened to be the eldest one. It wasn’t 140 years that had separated mother and daughter on that June day, but Rhett Butler himself. It was she, Scarlett, that had carried the girl for over nine months, damaging her figure, not Rhett–and yet he said Bonnie was his and his alone. Scarlett set her cup of coffee aside and requested that Pork bring her another glass of wine; coffee would not numb this discontent.

Scarlett sipped her beverage with regularity, staring at Bonnie and Rhett’s empty places while Melanie rambled on about something to do with the Orphans’ Home. Nodding and making all the appropriate comments that one makes when pretending to listen, Scarlett was not fooling the remaining adults in the room. What dull conversation Melanie had chosen to bring to the party! And Ashley was no better, mentioning some sort of article related to the topic that had appeared in _The Atlanta Constitution_.

Scarlett sighed out of boredom.

This was not the ideal night for her to be socializing. On top of her frustration with Bonnie’s behavior and Rhett’s encouragement of it, Scarlett was suffering from the combined effects of the alcohol and her hormones, creating a volatile brew. The wine provided her with a relaxed giddiness, but the premenstrual hormones added a very thick layer of irritability.

When Scarlett polished off the glass and requested a glass of madeira from Pork, Melanie’s concerned attention grew to worry. Scarlett was distracted, somber, and had been showing little restraint since Bonnie’s outburst.    

“The poor girl is probably just tired,” Melanie spoke soothingly, hoping to ease Scarlett’s mind. “Why even Beau–”

“I forgot what a fine liar you are, Melly,” Scarlett interrupted, not intending the comment to be connected to their recent dispute, though Melanie retreated slightly in her guilt. “You know Beau is the most well-behaved child in all of Atlanta. I’ve never seen him act in such a manner.”

“Well, sometimes, when he was tired…” Melly added quietly.

Scarlett let out a puff of air through her rosy lips, disregarding Melanie’s attempts at comparing Beau to the terror that Bonnie was becoming.

“Beau… You know, I still haven’t held his birthday supper. Did he tell you that I’d promised him one?”

Melanie nodded, providing Scarlett a thankful smile.

“Why not… How about the first week in November? What’s Sunday? The fifth?”

“The day of your birthday?” Melanie replied. “We wouldn’t want to take attention from–”

“Don’t concern yourself, Melly,” Scarlett slurred slightly before taking another sip of the sweet liquid. “I’m not planning any sort of celebration or acknowledgment of mine.” Scarlett leaned in toward Melanie so Ashley would not hear her next statement. “Why should I want to celebrate the fact that I’m a year older?” she whispered. “Are you free on the fifth? I really was sorry to miss Beau’s birthday. Such a darling boy,” Scarlett said with a smile as she turned to catch Ella and Beau sharing a laugh. “Such a darling boy you have, Ashley,” Scarlett said loudly, cloudily gazing at the man sitting to Melanie’s left. With her unfocused eyes, he almost appeared as the young man she had adored. Oh, and had she adored him! But, why…this couldn’t be the same man, could he? Her heart _nearly_ leapt when looking at him in this moment…but only nearly. Why did it not spring from her chest as it once had? Scarlett sighed and looked to her wine glass for the answer. Perhaps it was because they weren’t alone together…though, that had never made a difference in the past.

Melanie and Ashley’s eyes met, signaling to each other that it was time to make their departure and allow Scarlett some peace…and allow her to sober up. Neither was very comfortable around intoxicated people, especially the red-cheeked Melanie. Ashley certainly had had much more practice than his wife in dealing with the inebriated. After all, it had been necessary to socialize with the men of Clayton County from time to time.

“You’re free on the fifth, aren’t you, Ashley?” Scarlett asked. “We’re going to have a belated celebration for Beau’s birthday. Wasn’t it chocolate cake that you wanted, Beau?”

Beau smiled and gave his aunt a conclusive nod.

“You’ll have to watch out for Bonnie, though,” Scarlett warned. She giggled to herself. “Maybe I’ll have to lock her up that night,” she considered, leading to further laughter.

“Scarlett, dear,” Melanie said, pressing one hand to Scarlett’s shoulder and one hand on Scarlett’s cheek to gain back her attention and steady her. “You seem tired. I’m sure it’s been a long day and the week isn’t over yet. We should leave so you can get to bed. Remember how important your sleep is for your well-being?”

Scarlett tiredly nodded.

“But I won’t have any difficulty falling asleep tonight,” Scarlett said, drawing herself back with a burst of energy. “Not when I have this,” she answered staring into the glass, swirling the last of the ruby-colored liquid before sending it down her throat.       Pressing her hands against the table to assist in holding herself upright, Scarlett was beginning to regret the final glass of wine, which she had encouraged Pork to pour generously. Her body was not currently accustomed to this much alcohol and her tolerance was lower than she had expected.

Scarlett drew in a deep breath and heard Melanie calmly call, “Beau, say goodbye to your cousins. It’s time we go.”

Beau nodded, immediately leaping down from his chair.

When Scarlett rose from hers, she swayed slightly, but Pork was right behind her to provide her with stability. She thought she would be able to escort her guests out unaided, but her weak knees and dizziness gave her some doubt. Ashley moved beyond Melanie to offer Scarlett his arm, giving Pork a thankful glance.

“Oh, Ashley,” Scarlett sighed thankfully, placing her hand over his. “What a gentleman! You always have been so nice,” she cooed.

He led Scarlett out of the dining room with Melanie and Beau trailing after.

“Come, Ella,” Scarlett called, her head held high. “Come say goodnight to your guests.”

By the time they’d reached the vestibule, Pork had already gathered all of the Wilkes’ belongings in one arm so he could take Ashley’s place beside Scarlett, capturing her arm securely, just as he had her father’s before her. Scarlett used all her strength to stand without swaying, relying as little as possible on her most faithful servant as she watched Ashley shrug on his overcoat and Melanie tie her bonnet.

“Thank you for the drawing paper, Beau,” Ella said graciously, accepting Beau’s reluctant peck on her cheek then added, “Uncle Ashley,” before receiving his kiss.

“Aunt Melly, thank you for her,” Ella said, indicating the blonde rag doll Melanie had sewn for her that now lovingly rested in the crook of her arm.

Melanie crouched down to take the little girl in her arms.

“Happy birthday, darling Ella. I hope you love her as much as I love you.”

“I do,” Ella answered bashfully.

Rhett’s feet were soon heard lightly treading across the steps of the staircase in his descent, and Melanie couldn’t help but sigh with relief at his appearance. Now she wouldn’t have to worry so about Scarlett tonight knowing he would keep careful watch over her until she made it safely to bed.

When Rhett took his place beside Scarlett, she turned and acknowledged him with a scowl intended for his eyes only. How convenient of him to turn up when their guests were departing; he never did like spending time with Ashley. He’d abandoned her to the lackluster conversation and now Rhett could reap the benefits of playing the gracious host as he sent them out his door.

Rhett gave her a charming smile as if he hadn’t noted her displeasure–though she knew he had.

“I apologize for my absence. I’m sorry to see you leaving so soon,” he directed to the Wilkeses.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. Rhett never wanted Ashley around. What a liar he was.

“We really must,” Melanie insisted, her eyes tipping Rhett off to Scarlett’s inebriated state.

After studying Scarlett’s flushed face and glassy eyes, and finally noting Pork’s nearness to his mistress, Rhett turned back to Melanie and calmly said, “Well, if you must. Thank you for coming, Miss Melly. Ashley. Beau. It was a pleasure to share your company this evening.”

“We were happy to be here for such an important day,” said Melanie, giving Ella a loving smile.

Noting the kindness in Melanie’s eyes, Scarlett was suddenly and consciously grateful to have her friend–any friend–back in her home, glad that the misunderstanding was over.

“Thank you for being here, Melly.” Scarlett stepped away from the anchoring Pork and Rhett, to circle her arms around Melanie’s shoulders. “You’re such a dear, dear, dear, dear friend,” Scarlett continued, resting her cheek against Melanie’s shoulder, her unstable weight pressing into the weaker woman as fatigue grew. “You must come for tea on Sunday. It’s been too long.”

After noting Pork’s encouraging glances and Melanie’s wide eyes nearly pleading for assistance, Rhett stepped behind Scarlett, took her by the shoulders, and gently eased her away from Melanie.

“You’ll come?” Scarlett asked earnestly.

“Of course,” Melanie answered, taking Scarlett’s hand in hers. “Goodnight, Scarlett. Sleep well,” she encouraged when she released Scarlett’s warm hand; glancing to Rhett, her eyes ordered him to look after Scarlett.

“Goodnight, Melly. Goodnight, Beau. Goodnight, Ashley,” Scarlett called as they exited the front door. Scarlett still had enough wits about her to remain stable in Rhett’s grasp–restraining her urge to prod him in the stomach…or parts south–until the Wilkes family had departed. “Such a _fine_ gentleman with such a well-behaved son,” Scarlett said, craning her head up toward Rhett’s to needle him a little where it might hurt, deciding to use her words instead of a sharp elbow. “You can let me go, now,” Scarlett ordered, the alcohol on her breath wafting to Rhett’s nose.

“I’m not sure that I should. It appears that your grace has in fact been impaired by…how many glasses of wine was it since I left the table, my dear?”

Scarlett put her tongue out at him as her answer.

When Prissy approached the children to usher them upstairs and ready Ella for bed, Scarlett twisted out of Rhett’s hands and stepped to Ella with effort, an atypical sensation taking over her emotions. Crouching down before her eldest daughter, Scarlett folded Ella into her arms much like the night she had when she returned from 2011.

“Happy birthday, my little Ella. Five years old! My!” Scarlett paused, again reflecting on the fact that she nearly missed this day with her family. “I’m so glad we could all be together. I’m so glad I could be here,” she cried lightly, moistening Ella’s wiry hair with her tears. Scarlett pulled back to look into her daughter’s soft eyes and asked, “Are you happy? Are you glad I’m here?”

Ella nodded, smiling kindly, somehow not afraid of her mother’s behavior or confused by the rare affection, and hugged Scarlett back.

For a few brief moments, Scarlett allowed Ella’s love to sink in, which warmed her much more than the many glasses of wine she had consumed.

“All right,” Scarlett said, pulling away and wiping her cheeks with the pads of her fingers. “You gather the rest of your gifts and go on with Prissy and get ready for bed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Scarlett watched Ella scurry into the dining room and emerge with her sketchbook, her two new dolls, and a copy of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ that her stepfather had promised to read to her.

“Goodnight, Mother,” Wade said with a kind comfort before ascending the steps to ready himself for bed.

“Goodnight, Wade,” Scarlett called, watching Ella and Prissy follow him up the stairs. She thought again how well-mannered her two older children were and decided that the man standing behind her was to blame for her youngest’s behavior.

When Rhett gently touched her arm in order to assist her upstairs, Scarlett squirmed away and ended up seated on the floor, the layers of fabric draping her bustle making the incident painless. When Scarlett’s eyes met Rhett’s sober expression, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing as if Rhett had just told her the funniest of jokes. Scarlett covered her face with her hands and nearly toppled onto her back. It felt good to laugh. Somehow, it felt necessary to laugh. She felt lighter. She felt alive again after the weeks of anger, frustration, nightmares, and illness.

“It’s all right, Pork,” she heard Rhett’s voice cut through her echoing, merry laughter. “I’ll assist her.”

“Yes, Mist’ Rhett.”

Scarlett fell silent and uncovered her eyes in time to watch Pork return to the dining room to clear the table.

“You’ll help me, is that so?” Scarlett asked skeptically.

Rhett reached out his hands.

“No, thank you. I don’t think I need your help,” Scarlett blandly replied to the action, wiping her cheeks to remove the tears that had sprung from her laughter. “I can help myself.”

“I see you didn’t heed my advice.”

“And what advice was that?” Scarlett asked tiredly, rolling onto her hip.

“The trouble with Yankee women; they always remind a man that they can take care of themselves. Subsequently, they lose any of their charm.”

Scarlett rose onto her knees, planted her toes, rolled to her heels, and ascended to her natural height as effortlessly as a gymnast.

“I don’t really care much if I’m charming or not, right now,” she said proudly, turning toward the staircase. “Besides, I don’t need you to determine whether I’m charming or not.”

The sun, again, peeked out from behind the passing cloud in Scarlett’s mind.

“I know I’m charming.”

Scarlett flashed her dimples.

“What you are is drunk, Mrs. Butler.”

Well, at least Rhett seemed diverted, not disappointed by her actions, she thought.

Scarlett steadied herself and began taking even, though subtly swaying steps toward the staircase and said in a singing voice, “I’ve been drunker.”

“New Orleans,” Rhett reminisced with a smirk, closely trailing after her.

Scarlett shook her head.

“No, you weren’t there. New Orleans was nothing compared to this one particular time.” Taking hold of the banister, Scarlett continued, “It really was the most dreadful experience. The entire contents of my stomach…” She then paused, released her skirt, and motioned with her free hand and arm the curving route of those contents, “all out on the ground. I nearly became a temperance advocate after that, I think.” Scarlett hiccoughed before clutching her skirt and starting her ascent. “It’s a shame that I forgot so soon…” she quietly said to herself. “But I suppose I should blame you.”

“Me? I don’t recall forcing the wine glass to your mouth, my dear,” said Rhett, holding his hand inches from Scarlett’s waist in case she fell backwards as they climbed the stairs.

“No, but you left me to Melly and Ashley’s _dull_ conversation. What else had I to do? They were talking of orphans or some such thing. I can’t even remember,” Scarlett said, exasperation in her voice, sounding like her 15-year-old self after having been trapped in a conversation with an elderly Clayton County neighbor. “And you made me look like a fool in front of them, too” Scarlett added, followed by another hiccough.

“And how, pray tell, did I do that?”

“I asked Bonnie to behave herself and you overruled me and then you saw what happened.”

“What I saw was Ella rudely push Bonnie.”

“Rudely!” Scarlett shouted, stopping on the landing. “I’ll tell you what’s rude.” Scarlett pointed her finger in Rhett’s direction while he guarded her intently. “Bonnie trying to take what doesn’t belong to her–and on her sister’s birthday!” She then grabbed her skirt and continued her ascent up the remaining steps, her right hand remaining tightly gripped to the banister. Rhett audibly exhaled in relief. “She should be apologizing to Ella for what she did. But, I’m sure you won’t encourage it and I know you won’t let me make her do it.”

“You seem to be finding no fault with Ella’s actions. Don’t you think she should be apologizing to Bonnie? She could have hurt her.”

Scarlett stopped outside her bedroom door and swung around; her eyes narrow slits.

“She didn’t hurt her,” said Scarlett in a low voice, noting the door to the nursery closing swiftly, sure that Mammy had done this to prevent the children from witnessing yet another argument. “You should be glad that she didn’t bite Bonnie’s greedy little fingers off. Ella knows how to use her teeth to defend herself, if you recall,” Scarlett said proudly, referring to Ella’s recent run-in with her cousin Susie at Tara. “Ella just wanted Bonnie to leave her alone. Younger sisters are such pests,” Scarlett said, now not thinking of Bonnie, but of Suellen O’Hara.

“You’re taking sides, my pet.”

“I’m not your pet!” Scarlett replied in frustration, the chemicals in her body strongly guiding her emotions. “And it’s you who forced me to take sides! If I don’t defend Ella, who will? You’ve told me over and over that she’s mine. You’ll never defend her.”

Scarlett swiftly continued without allowing Rhett to dispute the statement, though she could see that he had wanted to.

“You should see to it that Bonnie apologizes to Ella. I’m not taking sides. I love Bonnie dearly–and don’t you ever again imply that I don’t–but if you don’t allow me to discipline her, she’s going to behave badly for the rest of her life. You think she’ll be invited to the Picards’ or Mrs. Elsing’s, then, if she continues to behave this way? That’s what you want for her, isn’t it? They wouldn’t put up with this behavior for very long.”

“She’s a child–” Rhett defended.

 “And she’ll remain a spoiled, unruly child all her life if you don’t do something now or let me try.”

“Come, Scarlett. Surely you’re describing yourself,” Rhett joked, though it came out more like a cruelty.

“Oh, you–” Scarlett wanted to hit him. Her fists were balled against her sides. She wanted to hit him badly, but some sanity crept back into her mind in recalling the last time she’d made such an attempt. She had promised herself to never lose her temper like that again. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it before speaking again, Scarlett stared into Rhett’s defensive eyes. “I admit that Pa may have spoiled me, but at least he and Mother and Mammy taught me right from wrong. And Pa punished me when I deserved it, even if it hurt him to do so. At least I learned how to behave amongst fine company.”

Rhett chuckled and Scarlett knew it was in reference to all the very wrong things she had done in her life and the fact that she had gotten tipsy tonight in front of Ashley, Melanie, young Beau, and even her own children. Her mind couldn’t help but flash back again to the day that she threw the biscuit at Suellen. She had been ten years old at that time and surely she should have known better than two-year-old Bonnie had this evening. But that was beside the point… Again, she took a deep breath, suppressing a scream that was hovering in her throat.

“If you don’t allow me to discipline Bonnie or do it yourself, she’s going to be…” Scarlett grasped for the right words, but her tired mind struggled. Strangely, she heard Sadie Grier’s voice in her head, repeating one of her common phrases that fit the situation perfectly. Scarlett adopted it now for she could not think anymore–about anything. “Bonnie’s going to be a pain in the ass!”

With her dizziness subsiding and her mental and physical fatigue expanding, Scarlett spun around and marched into her room. She slammed the door in Rhett’s face, noting the confusion in his expression over her final puzzling words. It was certainly a phrase with which he–and everyone else in the world–was unfamiliar. By the time he heard Scarlett slam the door that connected his room with hers, Rhett had deciphered Scarlett’s meaning. With an low chuckle at Scarlett’s creativity, Rhett quietly spoke, “Just like her mother,” before going to the little girl who had been awakened by the sound of her mother’s displeasure.

*              *              *

After several pitchers of hydrating water, cold wet cloths on her forehead, and a long morning nap that lasted into the afternoon, the worst of the effects of the alcohol from the night before had subsided, though Scarlett cursed her actions because it meant another day lost at the lumber office and the store.

However, her presence in the house that late afternoon had allowed her to witness–at Rhett’s invitation–a very grown-up summit he had arranged between Ella and Bonnie. Scarlett sat silently in the playroom observing as Rhett explained to each of the girls what had been wrong with their behavior at the supper table the night before and requested that they each apologize to the other–and to their mother–and promise not to take similar actions in the future. When the apologetic statements were concluded, Rhett asked the girls to shake hands and they did so without question. 

Scarlett was quite impressed by Rhett’s acknowledgment that Bonnie had not behaved as she should have that night and had told her so. Perhaps he was turning a new leaf? Though, Scarlett doubted that her words had had any influence; her thoughts and wishes for Bonnie were rather unimportant to him. A sober Scarlett had to admit that Ella had not quite acted in a ladylike manner either, though Ella’s reaction had been both natural and justifiable in her opinion. But, because of the fact that both girls had made a mistake, Scarlett believed that made it possible for Rhett to point out the error in Bonnie’s manners. If Ella had not reacted in a physical way, Scarlett doubted that Rhett could have brought himself to request an apology solely from his daughter; Ella had been his buffer.But, in any case, the girls seemed to be more respectful of each other in the following weeks, especially Bonnie. This surprised Scarlett, though she decided that Rhett’s minor reprimand had a much greater influence on Bonnie than Scarlett’s ever would have.

Scarlett couldn’t help but be slightly pleasanter with Rhett after he had shown an effort to improve Bonnie’s comportment, though they had not spent much time together beyond dinner and supper in the following weeks. He was still keeping his desk at the bank, and Rhett was now attending afternoon political meetings; he was rarely at home in the evenings following supper. At first, Scarlett was sure that Rhett was frequenting Belle Watling’s establishment, as he had since she had forced upon him different sleeping arrangements. However, now when he returned home late in the night, he was sober unlike the times before. Scarlett couldn’t bring herself to ask him where he had been those nights, not wanting him to speak the name of Belle Watling or laugh at her assumptions or tease her for showing any sort of concern.

On some nights, when Scarlett and the children had long been in bed, Rhett arrived home with other gentlemen and they sat talking in the dining room. On several of these nights, Scarlett crept to the upstairs hall banister, leaning over in order for her ears to capture the voices. Shockingly, she sometimes heard the familiar voices of Rene Picard, Hugh Elsing, the Simmons boys, Andy Bonnell, once Dr. Meade, and always Grandpa Merriwether and Henry Hamilton. Scarlett had expected to hear Rhett’s rich carpetbagger friends and Republicans, but never the voices of the men who had once thought hanging too good for Rhett Butler.

This was the group of men that Scarlett always associated with Frank Kennedy’s death, their former meetings much like these current ones now taking place in her own home. Had Rhett joined the Klan? He had said he might if it would improve Bonnie’s chances in Atlanta and the South. Oh, how could he? Surely he wouldn’t risk his life and freedom just as Frank had. Scarlett tried to convince herself that Rhett was smarter than that, but one night when he was out later than usual, she could not keep her silence anymore. Scarlett threw her wrapper on after hearing Rhett’s key in the lock and stepped out into the gas lit upper hall. On his approach, his pensive expression changed to surprise when he spotted her before him.

“Rhett, I’ve got to know. I’ve got to know if you–if it’s the Klan–is that why you stay out so late? Do you belong–?”

“The Klan?” he asked smiling. “You’re behind the times. There is no Klan in Atlanta now. Probably not in Georgia. But I suppose your Scalawag and Carpetbagger friends are keeping that organization alive in your mind.”

“No Klan? Are you lying to try to soothe me?”

Rhett chuckled.

“Now, when have I been anything but forthright with you?”

Scarlett did not speak, but her dagger-shooting eyes gave Rhett the only answer he should have expected.

“Well, it appears that there has been a time or two…”

“Closer to infinity, I’d say,” Scarlett muttered.

“…but this isn’t one of them. There is no Klan now. We decided that it did more harm than good because it just kept the Yankees stirred up and furnished more grist for the slander mill of his excellency, Governor Bullock. He knows he can stay in power just so long as he can convince the Federal government and the Yankee newspapers that Georgia is seething with rebellion and there’s a Klansman hiding behind every bush. To keep power he’s been desperately manufacturing Klan outrage stories where none exist, telling of loyal Republicans being hung up by the thumbs and honest darkies lynched for rape. But he’s shooting at a nonexistent target and he knows it. There hasn’t been an active Klan since shortly after I stopped being a Scalawag and became a humble Democrat.”

Scarlett did not catch much of what Rhett had said about Governor Bullock because her mind was occupied with relief that there was no longer a Klan. Thank God Rhett would not be killed like Frank had been. She would not be threatened with losing her store or Rhett’s money. But was Rhett truly working with the Old Guard? He had said ‘ _we_ decided’.

“Rhett, you had something to do with the breaking up of the Klan?”

Rhett’s eyes danced.

“My love, I did,” he admitted proudly. “Ashley Wilkes and I are mainly responsible.”

“Ashley–and you?”

Scarlett was very surprised that the men had anything to do with each other, especially after the tumult surrounding the potential sale of the mills the previous month.

“Yes, platitudinously but truly, politics make strange bedfellows. Neither Ashley nor I cared much for each other as bedfellows but– Ashley never believed in the Klan because he’s against violence of any sort. And I never believed in it because it’s damned foolishness and not the way to get what we want. It’s the one way to keep the Yankees on our necks till Kingdom Come. And between Ashley and me, we convinced the hot heads that watching, waiting, and working would get us further than nightshirts and fiery crosses.”

“The boys actually took your advice when you–?”

“When I was a speculator? A Scalawag? A consorter with the Yankees? You forget, that I am now a Democrat in good standing, devoted to my last drop of blood to recovering our beloved state from the hands of her ravishers! My advice was good advice and they took it. My advice in other political matters is equally good. We have a Democratic majority in the legislature now, haven’t we? And soon, we will have some of our good Republican friends behind the bars. They are a bit too rapacious these days, a bit too open.”

“You’d help put them in jail? Why, they were your friends! They let you in on that railroad-bond business that you made thousands out of!”

Rhett grinned his old mocking grin.

“Oh, I bear them no ill will. But I’m on the other side now and if I can assist in any way in putting them where they belong, I’ll do it. And how that will redound to my credit! I know just enough about the inside of some of these deals to be very valuable when the legislature starts digging into them–and that won’t be far off, from the way things look now. They’re going to investigate the governor, too, and they’ll put him in jail if they can. Better tell your good friends the Gelerts and the Hundons to be ready to leave town on a minute’s notice, because if they can nab the governor, they’ll nab them too.”

Scarlett didn’t believe it. The power of the Republicans in Georgia was too strong. The governor’s position was too well-established for any legislature to do anything to him, much less put him in jail.

“How you do run on,” Scarlett observed.

“If he isn’t put in jail, at least he won’t be reelected. We’re going to have a Democratic governor next time, for a change.”

“And I suppose you’ll have something to do with it?” she questioned sarcastically.

“My–”

Rhett cut himself off as if knowing his next word might be unwelcome.

“I will. I am having something to do with it now. That’s why I stay out so late at nights. I’m working harder than I ever worked with a shovel in the gold rush, trying to help get the election organized. And–I know this will hurt you, Mrs. Butler, but I am contributing plenty of money to the organization, too. Do you remember telling me, years ago, in Frank’s store, that it was dishonest for me to keep the Confederate gold? At last I’ve come to agree with you and the Confederate gold is being spent to get the Confederates back into power.”

“You’re pouring money down a rat hole!” Scarlett said, shocked that Rhett was being so wasteful with his capital.

“What! You call the Democratic party a rat hole?” His eyes mocked her and then were quiet, expressionless. “It doesn’t matter a damn to me who wins this election. What does matter is that everyone knows I’ve worked for it and that I’ve spent money on it. And that’ll be remembered in Bonnie’s favor in years to come.”

Their daughter, awakened by the sound of voices in the hall, called sleepily but commandingly: “Daddy!” and Rhett started past Scarlett.

“Bonnie. Always for Bonnie…” Scarlett sulked, her head down, her words barely audible. “Everything for Bonnie. The world for Bonnie!” she privately thought.

Rhett turned.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Scarlett voiced once her senses returned.

“What did you say?” Rhett repeated.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Scarlett pulled the collar of her wrapper together with her left hand as she turned to face him, chilled by the cool night air. “It’s funny,” she continued thoughtfully. “It’s funny how you’re changing yourself when you so strongly discouraged me from pretending to be anything but my own self. And now here you are–”

“Ah, at last, we come to the hypocrisy accusation. But you are mistaken. I’m not changing myself. It’s merely a change of hide. You might sponge the spots off a leopard but he’d remain a leopard, just the same.”

“Oh, I see,” Scarlett responded with a roll of her eyes. “And I suppose men like Doctor Meade are too blind to see the faint remnants of those spots? If I can see who you are, they can, too.”

“Yes…maybe they can see who I really am,” Rhett determined reflectively, as if he had just come to know himself for the first time. “But are you sure _your_ vision is perfectly clear, my dear?” Rhett asked, leaning toward her, examining her glowing eyes as she looked up at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Daddy!” called the indignant voice.

Before Rhett turned to go down the hall to his daughter he smiled and said, “Only that maybe it’s you who is in need of spectacles. Goodnight, Scarlett.”

“Goodnight,” Scarlett answered automatically. By then she was the only person left in the hall. She twisted her tight lips to the side for a moment, thinking, “Now what was that all about? _Me_ in need of spectacles?” She let out a puff of air through her lips. “Oh, he never means anything by it. He’s only trying to puzzle me with his words, as always.” Scarlett sighed and ambled toward her bedroom door, not quite in the mood to return to bed. Well, at least she knew that Rhett was not in danger of following Frank’s path. However, if respectability was what Rhett wanted most, then Rhett was more like Frank Kennedy than Scarlett cared to admit.

Rhett hadn’t had long to wait for the fruits of his labor, for the very next week, news came out that Governor Bullock had resigned his office and had escaped to New York. There was wild joy and excitement throughout Atlanta. When the news came, people gathered in the streets to celebrate and later gave parties to mark the occasion. The theme even took over Beau’s belated birthday supper at the Butler’s when Ashley, Melanie, and Rhett declared the inevitable end of Reconstruction another reason for celebration, and Beau gladly shared the day with the promising recent events.

This was a social victory for Rhett, and in turn for Bonnie, though Scarlett was sure she had not been swept along in the triumph. After all, everyone knew that she had friendships with Mrs. Gelert and Mrs. Hundon, and everyone knew that these particular Carpetbagger families had left town abruptly, not informing even their closest friends of their destinations. Their corruption and guilt was plainly obvious, and it couldn’t help but touch those who had been in friendly contact with them. The outcast ladies that had remained in town called on Scarlett for reassurance, lamenting about their now unstable position in Atlanta society. Unfortunately, Scarlett had little advice to bestow, being equally bewildered by the turn of events. It wasn’t that it hadn’t given her satisfaction to know that the Yankee rule was fracturing, but she knew very well that everyone who had resisted the conquerors had seen that she had all but joined them. Just as the new friends she had surrounded herself with had wagered, she had bet on the Bullock regime, and she had lost. And because she had not repented as Rhett had–no matter how self-serving his efforts were–Scarlett was to be left behind while Rhett and Bonnie’s status rose to prominence.

*              *              * 

_14 November 2011_

 

“It looks great from up here!” Peggy Byrne called down to the entrance hall from the top of the stairs, viewing Sadie Grier examine the freshly-decorated hall, slowly rotating in a circle to capture the three hundred and sixty degree view. A few smaller red-beribboned wreaths had been placed over mirrors on the north side of the room, which reflected across to the matching mirrors on the south wall. A large poinsettia plant had been positioned on the small entrance table near the umbrella stand and a few large vases scattered about held dense boughs of Virginia pine, giving the space a most refreshing scent.

Sadie paused, breathing in deeply while she directed her eyes up to her favorite piece in the hall and asked, “Do you think we should hang a kissing ball from the chandelier? I think it’s tradition…I mean in general–for this era. It’s a shame we didn’t ask Scarlett about her Christmas decor.”

“I guess our minds weren’t exactly on Christmas this summer. Though, Jennifer learned about some of Scarlett’s traditions.”

Sighing, Sadie lowered her head.

“There’s so much I didn’t get to ask her about,” she said with regret. “I suppose I thought we’d have more time.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Peggy spoke from above.

“Well, I hope she’d approve of our decorations. I wonder if she’d think it was too simple?” Sadie pondered, reflecting on Scarlett’s extravagant suggestions for the grand opening celebration.

“I don’t think she’d mind anything that we did,” Peggy answered, smiling, while she attached the pine garland to the balustrade in the upper hall. “She was happiest knowing that we were caring for this home and showing it off. I don’t think she’d have a complaint.”

“Though she might have an opinion,” Sadie smiled back, recalling Scarlett’s set views on a great variety of subjects.

“Hey, why don’t you use your artistic abilities and brighten up that bit of garland around the newel post,” Peggy requested, pointing to the foot of the stairs. “There, in that box, are some pine cones and dried flowers that you can weave in.”

“I don’t know about those artistic abilities,” Sadie commented while lifting the cardboard box from the floor. “But I’ll do my best.”

While humming to herself, she arranged the spherical yellow and red-colored blooms evenly throughout, stepping back occasionally to observe the view at a distance. After grouping several pinecones, she laughed, noting the wooden lion on the post rising out from the pine needles.

“ _If I were king of the forest… Not queen. Not duke. Not prince…_ ” Sadie quietly sang to the figure.“Now, all I need are some pheasant tail feathers to give your royal highness a decorative collar.”

“What’s that?” Peggy asked.

“Somehow, I think Scarlett would have used feathers,” she called up to Peggy. “It seems like her sort of thing.”

“If you think so,” Peggy answered skeptically.

“Though I’m not sure where to come by such a supply, I think the garland needs a little more oomph.”

“I grant the task to you, Sadie. In the meantime, why don’t you fill in the gaps along the main flight? Make sure to reserve some flowers and cones for me up here.”

After sticking a few bright flowers here or a pinecone there, Sadie came upon an abandoned strand of garland on a step halfway up the staircase.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Sadie asked, raising her hand above her head, the garland dangling down limply like she was displaying her kill after a hunt.

“Oh, where’s my mind?” Peggy grumbled. “I’m afraid I got ahead of myself up here and forgot about the short railing. That belongs on the section up from the landing.”

“No worries. I’ll take care of it,” Sadie said, toting the garland along with the box. As she neared the landing, Sadie turned her head to visually measure the short stretch of banister where the malleable evergreen was to find its home for the season.

The next thing Peggy heard was a shout of surprise immediately followed by a loud thud. She leaned over the banister to investigate the source. Sadie was hunched over the span of the top three steps, beginning to push herself up from the floor.

“She caught the tail end of the garland under her foot!” Jennifer called from below, having just joined them in the hall, quickly making her way up to assist Sadie. “I saw it. I knew you were about to trip, but I instantly fell mute,” she apologetically stated.

Rubbing her rug-burned knees, a grimace plastered on her face, Sadie consoled, “It’s not your fault. I’m so clumsy,” Sadie muttered.

“Are you all right?” Jennifer asked, picking up the intact box from near the landing table.

Sadie nodded.

“Here,” Sadie said, handing Jennifer the hazardous garland. “You take it and keep it as far away from my feet as possible.”

“Do you need some bandages? I can raid the first aid kid.”

“No, I’m good. I’m fine…”

She raised her skirt once more to examine her knees, which were nearly concealed by her almost knee-high boots, but no drop of blood was to be found. When Sadie raised her head she had to grab Jennifer’s arm for stability.

“Sorry,” she apologized, holding herself steady for a moment. “I’m just a little light headed. I think the wind got knocked out of me.”

Sadie smiled when releasing her grip.

“Come on. Help me out with this garland. And then you’re going to help me find some feathers.”

“Feathers?”

“Feathers.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being patient. And for that, I'll give you a rather long chapter - hopefully not too long. I don't believe there are any language warnings for this one, so I apologize if I should have given one. Just one reference, I think: at the start of the chapter I used Loretta Lynn's lyrics for her song Van Lear Rose. The song describes a rather Scarlett-like character considering all the men vying for her attention, and she happens to enjoy singing it :)
> 
> Again, if there is any repeated text, please let me know so I can correct it.

 

 

Part Two

 

Chapter 19

 

_She was the belle of Johnson County_

_Ohio River to Big Sandy_

_A beauty to behold, like a diamond in the coal_

_All the miners they would gather ‘round_

_Talk about the man that came to town_

_Right under their nose_

_Stole the heart of the Van Lear Rose_

 

Scarlett set her pencil down and sighed, tilting her head to each side to stretch her aching neck. As usual, Ashley’s account book was cause for a crick in the neck and a stiffened back. Why he couldn’t keep them in good order using his full faculties, while she could quietly sing a tune and simultaneously add up the columns of numbers, she could never understand. If mathematics was easy for her, it should be easy for a gentleman such as Ashley Wilkes. It was a shame that she couldn’t provide him with a computer and the spreadsheets of the future; though, he’d probably find some way to muddle up that foolproof method, too.

Stepping away from her secretary desk, Scarlett decided to take a turn about the sitting room in order to stretch her legs and possibly relieve the inexplicable restlessness that had plagued her all morning.

“Mother, who’s the Van Lear Rose?” asked Ella, who was playing with her dolls in a cozy corner of the room.

“ _Your mama. She’s the Van Lear Rose_ ,” Scarlett sweetly sung the lyrics, petting Ella’s head as she passed the girl. Her fingers then skimmed over Bonnie’s soft curls, her youngest only a step away.

“But, aren’t you from Clayton County?” Ella asked in return, watching her mother glance out the window briefly.

“Yes.”

“But…” Ella started, instantly distracted from her follow-up question on the distinction between Johnson and Clayton counties when her little sister started attempting to tie a blue ribbon in the yarn hair of Ella’s new doll from Aunt Melly.

“I think it’s about Mother and my father,” Wade interposed from a chair on the opposite side of the room from his sisters, directing his pride-tinged comment to Ella.

“Your father?” Scarlett said, unable to mask a laugh. Though when she saw a trace of hurt in Wade’s eyes, she felt compelled to say something to smooth things over. “But I wasn’t being serious. It’s not really about me…or your father. He certainly wasn’t poor,” she said proudly, signaling that she never would have considered anyone without money. “It’s only a song and not about us. Why, Clayton County is a land of planters, not miners, Wade.”

“Didn’t Father come to Clayton County and marry you when you already had many beaux there? Aunt Melly said you were popular and could have married any man, but Father came and–”

“I suppose Aunt Melly did,” Scarlett said grumpily, cutting Wade off and returning to her chair in front of the secretary, forever frustrated with Melanie’s tales of romance between Charles Hamilton and Scarlett O’Hara. Despite her outward protest, Scarlett had felt some affinity to the sought-after subject of the song, though she never would identify Charles Hamilton as the man who entered her life and stole her heart. However, Wade’s connection between his mother, his father, and the song had been rather astute based on the truth according to one Melanie Hamilton Wilkes.

Scarlett stared down at the account book, but instead of turning to a new page, she was drawn to the nine-by-nine Sudoku grid she had sketched earlier that day. Ashley had caught her in what he had perceived as a strange daydream with Scarlett randomly filling in rows and columns with the numbers one through nine and then erasing some with equal randomness to create the puzzle. She’d had to apologize for her woolgathering–and explain the rules of her little numbers game–and had decided that she might be able to concentrate better if she could take the book home with her for the morning and return with it after dinner.

Now that she thought on it, why had she come home? It was one of those rare blissful days when she had Ashley all to herself, and yet she had barely given notice to him this morning. Why had she chosen to return home instead of reveling in her dear Ashley’s nearness? Only months ago, she would have taken full advantage of the situation, but now…now the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. She was disappointed in herself for letting the opportunity slip by, especially considering that her attention had not been much better here. She was restless and fidgety, and she didn’t know why.

With Ella and Bonnie’s cacophonous–and incorrect–rendition of _Van Lear Rose_ getting on Scarlett’s last nerve, she decided that, despite her valiant efforts, she could only endure so much time spent with her children. Yes, she’d missed them. Of course she loved them. After nearly losing them for all eternity, the ache that had been in her heart was all the proof that she’d ever need. But that didn’t mean she needed to spend every available moment with them. Dinner would be served once Rhett arrived, but in the meantime she would escape to the isolated office off of the library. Scarlett gathered up the book and made her way to the hall door. When she cracked it open, she heard an unexpected yet strangely familiar voice cutting through the still space.

“Who am I? Who are you?”

“That’s what _I’m_ askin’. Are you here t’see Miss Scarlett?”

After a long pause, the voice dryly said, “Yes, in the library, with a candlestick.”

Prissy remained silent.

“This _is_ a prank, isn’t it? Well, you can tell Peggy to pull it on Jen, instead. This isn’t my cup of tea. Whose choice was it, anyway, for you to talk like a servant from an old nineteen thirties film? It’s offensive to both of us.”

“Oh, my God!” Scarlett’s mind screamed in recognition of the opinionated voice. She instantly slipped out the door and ran to the foot of the stairs, her heart thumping in her chest. She had to do something, and quick. “Prissy!” Scarlett called to distract her servant. “Prissy, she’s here to see me. Go watch the children.”

Prissy again turned her attention to the strangely-dressed woman next to her, eying the unusual-looking spectacles, the long, unadorned ponytail, the bulky gray, cable-knit sweater, the plaid wool skirt that fell to the knee, and the shiny leather boots that did not come quite far enough up to hide the female’s recently mottled bare knees.

“Prissy!” Scarlett demanded.

“Yes’m.”

Prissy bowed her head and marched down the remaining stairs. When she neared her mistress, Scarlett pulled her close. Word of this incident could not go beyond the three of them, at least not yet.

“Don’t say a word about my guest to the children, to Rhett–Mammy, Pork, your mother, anyone. Do you understand?” Scarlett whispered. “Not anyone.”

Prissy was frozen, expressionless.

“Do you understand?” Scarlett repeated through gritted teeth. “If you say a word, you’ll no longer be in my employment. You understand? You’ll not be allowed to live here with your family. You’ll never again work in the finest home in Atlanta.”

“Yes’m,” Prissy answered shakily, taking Scarlett’s threat seriously. If there was one thing that Prissy cherished, it was bragging about having one of the best positions in town–and Scarlett knew it. Prissy enjoyed acting nearly as fine and mighty as her mistress around her peers, and no, she did not want to do anything to jeopardize her idealized status. “I understand. I swear I won’t say a word.”

Prissy quickly passed into the sitting room once Scarlett released her grip.

“Close the door!” Scarlett ordered in frustration when she felt Prissy’s eyes remaining on the scene through a crack.

Scarlett silently stared at the open-mouthed, wide-eyed woman on the steps above her, waiting to speak until Prissy complied with her order. She couldn’t believe her eyes, though her intellect told her it couldn’t be an illusion. If it could happen to her, it could happen to anyone. At the sound of the door latching shut, Scarlett cried in a hushed tone, “Sadie!” She gathered her skirt and rushed up the stairs to the frozen creature. “Sadie, what are you doing here?”

“You’re…? You’re back!” Sadie said once she again found her voice at Scarlett’s touch; an amalgam of joy, concern, and disbelief hung behind her eyes as they stood face to face.

“Come with me,” Scarlett ordered, grasping onto Sadie’s arm and propelling both of them up the stairs, Sadie too stunned to resist. No, she certainly wasn’t the result of a hallucination; she was solid under Scarlett’s tight fingers. What on earth was she doing here? How did she enter 1871? An unexpected smell of evergreen wafted to Scarlett’s nostrils during their climb. “Great balls of fire! What’s that you’re carrying?” she asked once noticing the garland in Sadie’s possession.

“Oops. Better be careful with this,” Sadie said, gathering the tail ends of it up to her curvaceous hip. “I just tripped over it a second ago and skinned my knees. It belongs… right…here…actually,” she said as she skimmed her hand along the banister when climbing the short flight up from the landing. “We were just–”

Sadie then stopped, froze, resisting Scarlett’s pull. She leaned over the banister and looked down. Then she turned her focus to her right, noting the naked balustrade that Peggy had just been trimming. There wasn’t a seasonal decoration in sight.

“Hey, what’s going on? Am I dreaming?” she asked herself and then sniffed the air. Turning to Scarlett, puzzled, she asked, “Do you smell smoke?” Sadie looked around absently and said, “What is it, a cigar? It smells different in here. Did I black out or something? It’s messing with my senses. Peggy was right there,” she pointed, “and the decorations…”

“Come on,” Scarlett encouraged, pulling with force. “We can talk once I get you out of sight. There are eyes and ears everywhere,” she whispered.

“Eyes and ears?” Sadie questioned. “What are we running away from? Where’s Peggy? And who was that woman?”

“She’s my maid.”

“Your maid?” she asked, skepticism in Sadie’s words.

“In here,” Scarlett said, shoving Sadie into her bedroom and stealthily closing her door in the span of a millisecond.

“Are you hiding from someone?” Sadie asked after Scarlett threw the account book on the vanity bench, retrieved her key, and locked her door. “Don’t you want to see Peggy or Jen? Dylan’s here, too.”

“Dylan? Here? Where?” Scarlett asked frantically, wondering if she needed to save him, too. Her eyes stared into Sadie’s intently as if she could draw the answers out without a shared word.

“Well, I think he’s in his office. It’s where I last saw him.”

Scarlett’s frenzied demeanor immediately changed and she thought, “His office? His office…but it’s a storage room. It can’t be his office. He can’t be here.”

“Don’t you want to see them?” Sadie asked, confusion written on her flushed face as she watched Scarlett lock the door connecting her room to Rhett’s. “What’s wrong?”

“Of course I want to see them,” she answered, marching past Sadie.

Scarlett then locked the door to the bathing room.

“Then why are we hiding out here?” Sadie asked, stepping toward the hall door. “Why don’t we go out and–”

Scarlett swatted at Sadie’s hand when she reached for the doorknob.

“No! No, we can’t go out. You can’t go out. I don’t think they’re here. Sadie. My God, don’t you know?”

“Don’t I know what?” Sadie asked, draping the garland over the bronze doorknob. “All I know is that you’re back and it’s a miracle. I’m so glad you’re here. Before– I didn’t get to– Well, I know everyone will be so happy to see you. And of course they’re here. Are you afraid about how they’ll react? We know you didn’t have a choice when you left us and–”

“Sadie. Stop. Hush. Keep your voice low. Look at me,” Scarlett pleaded. “Do I appear as I did when I was with you?”

“Well…no. You’ve only just arrived, haven’t you? You’re still in your nineteenth century clothes. I know you went back to your time. We read your letter–”

“My letter?” Scarlett exclaimed, immediately distracted from the situation at hand. “You received my letter? Oh, I’m so glad.” It truly was a miracle; one she never thought she would experience. Her shot in the dark, Rhett’s glorious suggestion, had reached its intended target.

“Thanks for remembering to mention me last, by the way–even after a baby! It made me feel _very_ important in the whole scheme of things,” Sadie said drolly. “At least I hope I was the intended _S.G._ Or had you forgotten about me completely?”

“Now, how could anyone forget you?” Scarlett replied smartly.

Sadie smiled, revealing pride and self-deprecation in equal parts–her demeanor as calm as can be.

Oh, she didn’t know, Scarlett lamented. Sadie didn’t know, didn’t realize that her entire life had just been thrown into the vortex. She hadn’t observed the space around her with care, her only focus on the woman before her. How could Scarlett break the news to her that Sadie was now actually in Scarlett’s world? She had to do it with care.

“Sadie, does my bedroom look the same to you?”

“Um?” she voiced, swiveling her head from right to left and back again, her eyes mounting with concern, her shoulders tensing.

“Here,” Scarlett said, taking her hand and leading Sadie to the closet. “Look inside. Is this what you remember showing guests on your tours?” Scarlett walked her in further, holding Sadie’s hand between both of hers, and she heard Sadie’s breath catch in her throat. Sadie lifted her free hand and it grazed across the silky, smooth, and woolen fabrics of Scarlett’s vast wardrobe. She dragged the back of her hand along a collar decorated with the plushest sable.

“It’s beautiful,” Sadie said with awe in her voice. “How did all this get here? No one told me we were furnishing it with costumes. And here’s the dressing gown,” she said, plucking at the paisley fabric with colors that had reminded her of the Georgia soil. “Since you left, we’ve been displaying it on a dress form stand. Whoever redecorated this closet should have at least left that out since it’s an authentic piece.”

Scarlett turned her head to look up at Sadie, tears pricking at her eyes. For one of the first times in her life, Scarlett had empathy for someone. She, too, remembered the original excuses and false scenarios that she’d created in denying the truth: Of course she hadn’t traveled to the future. How absurd! There must have been another explanation… Once the realization hit, she knew how Sadie would feel for she’d felt it herself four months ago–the loss, the devastation, the helplessness, the bewilderment.

“Was this supposed to be a surprise for me? Is that why Peggy disappeared and you appeared…and that woman who’s playing your servant appeared? Has everyone seen you, but me? How long have you been back?” Sadie asked quietly, obviously not quite believing her own narrative.

“I haven’t been back,” Scarlett answered carefully, squeezing Sadie’s hand, relaying the truth through her touch. “These aren’t costumes…except for this one,” she concluded, revealing the _Georgia Shakespeare_ stage gown with which Sadie had been quite familiar.

“That disappeared with you,” she voiced shakily. “Did you bring it back?”

Scarlett shook her head and her lips read ‘no’, though no sound escaped.

Sadie pulled her hand from Scarlett’s sweaty grasp, frightened, and turned toward the doorway. Scarlett followed.

“What’s going on? I tripped, but I don’t remember hitting my head or…” Her eyes tilted toward the ceiling once she reached the foot of the bed, her focus slowly drifting down across every inch of the room. This clearly wasn’t a petrified vault. It had an atmosphere of life, of comfort, of home. It wasn’t a room filled with unused furniture and period trinkets made to resemble a bedroom from the past; it was a bedroom. Once Sadie’s sharp eyes met the floor, she gasped and dropped to her knees, immediately leaning onto her right hip. Her fingertips grazed over the copies of roses weaved throughout the carpet, images that were not present an hour ago. “Just like your description…”

“You said you tripped,” Scarlett spoke into the chilly silence, tensely wringing her hands. “I wasn’t able to tell you in my letter, but… That night. The night that I last saw you all, my foot caught on the skirt of my dress. I tripped on a step and I fell near the top of the staircase.”

“At the landing?” Sadie asked after a difficult swallow, her head still bowed to the carpet.

“Yes. And after that happened, I was home. I was here. You fell in the same place, didn’t you?”

Sadie nodded, seemingly unwilling or unable to look up. Silent, shallow breaths were entering her lungs.

“You were carrying the pen and guestbook?” Sadie asked.

Scarlett nodded and skillfully knelt down next to Sadie, pressing her hand to Sadie’s solid shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Peggy found them on the landing. And that’s when…that’s where we lost you,” Sadie realized.

“I tried to find you. I tried to return to the party, but the ballroom was empty. I couldn’t understand where everyone had gone. And…and–” Scarlett again paused, this time to wipe away a tear before it landed on her cheek. “And then Rhett found me,” she said, recalling one of the happiest moments in her life, “and I knew I was home.”

Sadie finally turned her moist eyes onto Scarlett, her lip quivering before she stilled it between her teeth.

“And this…this has happened to me?”

Scarlett nodded. It was the only explanation.

“It’s November fourteenth?”

Scarlett nodded.

“Monday?”

“Tuesday,” Scarlett corrected.

“What’s…the year?” Sadie asked, obviously using all the courage she could muster to speak the most terrifying question.

“Eighteen seventy-one.”

Sadie sucked in her breath and exhaled just as quickly. Her eyes closed and her head lowered as if she were about to faint. Her hand found the footboard of the bed, and after taking in a deep breath Sadie dragged herself in the direction of the bed and rested her back against a smooth panel of black walnut. She shifted slightly and pulled her phone out of her back pocket, investigating it for a minute.

“No signal,” she said, flashing the screen at Scarlett before setting it to her side. Her face had grown pale. She looked to be ill. “I can’t call someone. I can’t even send a message.” Sadie pulled her knees up in the direction of her chest. “Not that it would do me any good.”

Scarlett shifted herself, resting on her left hip, and leaned her shoulder against the footboard.

“The stairs. Those damn stairs,” Sadie cursed. “Carolyn and I thought it was the stairs; they were a tunnel, a portal, some sort of conduit… Oh, why wasn’t I more careful? I never thought–” Sadie bowed her shaking head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t be here.” Her eyes met Scarlett’s and she repeated, “I shouldn’t be here.”

Inquisitiveness soon flooded her expression. “People trip up these steps all the time. It seems like I have someone on a tour every few weeks who does it. Have you noticed a pack of confused tourists running through your house?”

Scarlett shook her head; every facial muscle fighting against a smile conjured by the idea. Imagine, perplexed twenty-first century men and women roaming her mansion’s halls!

“Maybe they haven’t tripped in that exact place, on that exact step?” Scarlett wondered.

“Maybe not.” Sadie’s head dropped. “And no one’s completely fallen like I just did,” she said, taking another peek at her tender knees.

Scarlett reached for Sadie’s right hand to study it more carefully. The palm was red against Sadie’s olive skin.

“Your hands hit the landing?”

Sadie nodded, her eyes following Scarlett’s examination.

“So did mine. Is that when you lost sight of Peggy?”

Sadie confirmed it with another nod.

“I think that’s when it happens. Right there.”

“Then we need to put up yellow caution tape around that section of stairs. _Warning: portal to the past,_ ” Sadie said in her tired voice, stretching her hand out before her as if creating a marquee. “The only path open should be right along the banisters and everyone must hang on for dear life,” Sadie joked. “Though, imagine the money we could make selling tickets for this journey.”

Scarlett squeezed Sadie’s hand, amazed that she could make light of the situation. Though, when Sadie returned her gaze, Scarlett could see the moisture building in her eyes.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I don’t know whether I should celebrate or freak out. I shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t be possible that I’m here,” Sadie concluded adamantly, pressing her lips to her folded hands. “Tell me I’m only dreaming. Tell me that when I wake up, I’ll be in some hospital out of my mind on painkillers.”

“I don’t think you’re dreaming. And I don’t think I’m dreaming, either.”

Sadie let out her breath noisily and tilted her head; looking to the floor, her eyes caught sight of Scarlett’s ruby-colored taffeta skirt. She slowly reached to take a bit of the fabric between her thumb and forefinger, perhaps seeking as much evidence as possible to confirm that she was conscious. She could see it. She could feel it. Touch often seemed inaccessible in a dream.

“This is pretty,” she quietly complimented on Scarlett’s form-fitting velvet bodice and taffeta skirt. “You look really nice in red. I don’t think you ever wore the color when you were with us.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Scarlett answered, blushing a little at the rare compliment.

Sadie grinned when she spotted the Claddagh ring, now situated on the middle finger of Scarlett’s right hand.

“You kept it on,” she said, dragging her finger across it briefly, clearly touched.

“It reminds me of you and everyone who helped me in your time. I like wearing it,” Scarlett honestly replied.

Sadie’s smile gradually disappeared with a sigh.

“How am I going to get home?” Sadie asked, her eyes pleading. Surely, Scarlett would have the answers; she had traveled both ways within months of each other. “And please don’t say that I have to throw myself down the staircase. It would be suicidal.”

Scarlett remained silent, her lips tight. That would have been the only answer she could have given. Sadie sighed loudly in defeat, pressing her left hand to her head as if a sudden headache had come on. Scarlett sensed the helplessness that she herself had felt up until the time she had accidentally found the route back home. But thank God she’d had the Connolly family. Thank God she’d had Peggy and James and Jennifer, and yes, even Sadie, when she thought her entire life had been lost. And so now, the roles had been reversed.

“We’ll figure something out,” Scarlett announced confidently. “Somehow, there has to be a safer way…compared to what happened to me.”

“How are we going to do that? Experiment? How long will it take?”

“I don’t know, but in the meantime, you’ll stay with me–with us. You’ll be safe here.”

Sadie tilted her head, a sad but appreciative smile on her lips.

“So…” she sighed a frustrating sigh, raising her moist eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t even know where to start.”

In the silence, Scarlett tried to recall what she had been desperate to know when she first arrived in 2011. What had she wondered about? What questions had she had that could not be answered at the time? Surely, she had possession of most of the answers now.

“Remember–? Remember when Jen found out that there was no news of my disappearance from this time? The records remained the same? There wasn’t any sort of notice in the newspapers?”

Sadie nodded.

“Well, I’ve learned that I truly hadn’t disappeared. At least not enough for anyone to notice.”

“What do you mean?” Sadie asked with fascination.

“I’d been ill. Much more sick here than when I was with you. I hadn’t been myself, but everyone thought it had been due to what had happened to me. I suppose it was.” Scarlett paused at the thought. “Mammy said I was spiritless. But what I’m meaning to say is, I don’t think you’ve disappeared from two thousand eleven. You’re still there in most ways.”

“Still there in body, but spiritless?”

“Well, I don’t know. You haven’t lost a ba–” The painful reminder stilled Scarlett and it took a moment for her to find her voice again. “You probably won’t be quite like yourself in your time–while you’re here–but your accident wasn’t as terrible as mine. Perhaps it matters if you were hurt badly or not? But it’s as if our bodies split into two when we cross over from our time, and wherever we go, we take our most true self. I suppose I’m not making any sense. You understand traveling across times better than I do. But I left something of myself here.”

“So, you don’t think anyone will be looking for me? I’ll go on with my life in two thousand eleven as if nothing happened? I have a business to run, you know,” Sadie stressed anxiously.

“I know,” Scarlett said, understanding Sadie’s concern very well. “But that was my experience. No one ever knew that I was gone. Wouldn’t it be the same for you?”

“One can only hope. If everything is equal, the main difference is that– Unfortunately, I’ve come to a place where I can’t check on my future like we were able to check on your past. Here I’m a–” She laughed to herself. “I’m a twinkle in my great, great…great grandparents’ eyes. Perhaps all thirty-two of them. That’s a lot of twinkles spread out in this country and across an ocean.”

“A lot of what?” Scarlett asked, confused about the phrase.

“I was not on their radar. I was barely an idea in their minds at this time. I’m sure you don’t think of your three-times great grandchildren?”

“No,” Scarlett answered honestly, though she had moved closer to a _yes_ ever since meeting Wade’s great granddaughter.

Sadie shrugged her shoulders and relief slowly came into her voice. “So, what you’re saying is I don’t have to drive myself to madness wondering if my parents, Matt, Peggy, my employees, everyone– They’re not wondering where I am? I’m still carrying on with my day as if nothing changed?”

“If it always works the same, you’re still at home. No one will be missing you,” Scarlett assured.

A sharp knock on the hall door caused both Scarlett and Sadie to jump. Scarlett quickly brought her finger up to her lips, requesting Sadie’s silence.

“Miss Scarlett?”

“Yes, Mammy?” she answered, attempting to smooth her shaky voice.

“Mist’ Rhett’s here,” Mammy informed, signaling that dinner was to be served.

“Tell him I’ll be down terrectly.”

“Yes, Miss Scarlett,” she answered. Scarlett could hear the suspicion in Mammy’s voice slicing right through the door. It wasn’t common for Scarlett to barricade herself inside her room like this.

“That’s Mammy? _Your_ mammy from _your_ childhood? And your mother’s before you?” Sadie asked excitedly, her eyes suddenly alive again.

“Yes,” Scarlett answered cautiously.

“And _Rhett_ … That’s who I think it is?”

“My husband,” Scarlett confirmed.

“Oh…my…gosh,” Sadie exhaled shakily, her face lit from within, this new reality finally sinking in. She rose from the floor and made her way in the direction of a window. Scarlett stumbled after her and grasped Sadie’s waist to keep her from the transparent glass and the outside world.

“No, you mustn’t be seen!” Scarlett commanded.

“Do you know it’s an entirely different world out there?”

“I understand just as well as you do,” Scarlett responded, imagining the structures that would tower over her home 140 years from now.

“I have to see it! Somehow–while I’m here–I have to see it!” Sadie exclaimed, turning to face Scarlett once more. “You have to help me get out, even if for just a day before I try to get back. What an opportunity! I want to walk the streets, to see the homes–the architecture. To see Atlanta as it was. Everything has changed so much. I want to see it the way you saw it– I mean…the way you see it,” she corrected. “I want to know your family, your servants, your friends, your businesses…Tara.”

“Sadie,” Scarlett interrupted, drained by Sadie’s enthusiasm. It might take weeks to meet all of her requests. “We haven’t even figured out– Don’t you want to leave as soon as possible? How can I introduce you to anyone when– Well, at least you knew who I was when I arrived. How do I explain your presence here? What do I tell Rhett?” Scarlett began thinking practically.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“If you’re going to stay, you have to be somebody,” Scarlett explained.

Sadie smiled as if Scarlett’s comment helped her to recall something amusing.

“Well, I always wanted to be _somebody_ , but I think you need to be more specific,” Sadie suggested, paraphrasing a favorite Lily Tomlin quote.

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Scarlett stressed, not catching the humor in the previous statement. “But you can’t be yourself. You and I must have some connection. I wouldn’t invite just anyone into my home. You would most likely be family, but I can’t think of–” Scarlett rushed over to her bedside table, pulling open the top drawer and retrieving a small journal. Sadie joined her when Scarlett began flipping through the pages of relative’s birthdates and addresses. “It doesn’t help that you’re a Yankee, either,” Scarlett grumbled. What Northern relations had the O’Haras or the Robillards, anyway?

As they sat side by side on the bed studying the book with sharp focus, another rap sounded on Scarlett’s door.

“God’s nightgown,” Scarlett whispered and Sadie snorted at the phrase. Scarlett shushed her with her blazing green eyes and Sadie drew back, straightening her posture. “Yes?” Scarlett called.

“Scarlett, dinner is on the table. The children and I are waiting.”

“That’s him, isn’t it,” Sadie whispered excitedly at the sound of Rhett’s voice. “I’ve heard his voice…” she said to herself as if it were the most amazing sound she’d ever heard.

“Hush,” Scarlett hissed, annoyed at Sadie’s obvious reverence for Rhett as if he were a saint. “I’ll just be another moment, Rhett. Start without me.”

“Scarlett?” he repeated suspiciously.

“I’ll be down!” Scarlett replied, unable to tame her weariness of the entire situation. She quickly corrected her tone. “I’m only fixing my hair. It won’t take but a minute. Please, Rhett, start without me.”

“I expect you in a minute or I’ll–”

“That’s all I need,” Scarlett sweetly reassured.

There was no further sound from the hall other than quieting footsteps as Rhett retreated from Scarlett’s door. Rhett had taken Scarlett’s word and she’d better keep to it.

“Sadie, you’ll have to stay in this room for now. Don’t go to the window. Don’t even– You’ll have to hide in my closet,” she decided. “There’s no telling who might come in here when I’m at dinner and I can’t very well leave my room locked up.”

Scarlett returned her book to the drawer.

“We’ll have to go through that after dinner. I must have some relation that would fit your description–someone that no one knows well enough to properly doubt you.”

“Can’t you just tell them who I really am?” Sadie asked simply.

“I never told anyone anything about the future. They don’t even know that I left this time. They don’t know about you or Dylan or anyone.”

“What?” Sadie asked, surprise in her whisper. “Don’t you think you should–?”

Scarlett took Sadie by the arm, ignoring the subject, and led her to the closet, bringing her to the back corner. She pulled the black-beaded, green dress away from the wall, opening a space for Sadie to curl up into.

“An overflowing closet; always the perfect hiding place for hide-and-seek. I’m very good at keeping still,” Sadie said as she crawled into the corner. “And I’m limber.”

“Good.”

When Sadie pulled her knees up to her chest, she remembered, “Oh, my phone. I left it on the floor.” Scarlett retrieved it with careful, quiet, and calm steps; the phone glowed when back in Sadie’s hands.

“Don’t make a sound and none of that either,” Scarlett ordered, pointing to the light-emitting device. “That’ll attract Prissy for sure.”

“Your maid? But she’s already seen me.”

“Well, I won’t let her see you like this, cowering in a closet. Not if you’re to eventually be my guest. Turn it off,” Scarlett ordered before releasing the fabric from her hand.

“I just want to see if I can send–”

“Off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie whispered from behind the blanket of fabric, a hint of a rebellious teenager in her voice. Scarlett bent to tuck the skirt around Sadie’s boots so no portion of her would be seen.

“I’ll be back immediately after dinner,” Scarlett reassured before making a quick stop in front of her full-length mirror. While smoothing her stray hairs, she realized that Sadie’s appearance had certainly given her a focus for her excess energy this afternoon–not that this was the way she had wanted to spend it. She adjusted her dress, and smiled to herself as she was reminded that she did look very nice in this color. Hopefully she could keep her face from turning this shade at dinner. She had to be cool. Butter couldn’t melt in her mouth. When Scarlett approached her door, she freed the garland from the doorknob, wound it up, and rested it next to the fireplace. Taking one final breath, she reached for the doorknob and stepped out of her silent room as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

That afternoon it was decided that Sadie would be introduced to Scarlett’s family, and possibly to the town at large, as Brianne O’Hara Hall. Brianne truly was the granddaughter of James O’Hara, Gerald’s oldest brother. Her father, Brian, was James’ third child, and born in Savannah. Scarlett knew that her cousin had moved to Chicago at a young age, seeking out his own path in life apart from his father and uncle’s trade. He had become a teacher and had married a woman of German ancestry. Brianne was Scarlett’s first cousin, once removed, and about six years older than Scarlett. They had only met once when they were children at Scarlett’s uncle’s–Brianne’s grandfather’s–home in Savannah. Brianne had since married a man named Matthew Hall, and Scarlett thought he was a music teacher or musician of some sort, though the details were vague. But Brianne and Sadie would be about the same age, and from what Scarlett could remember, they would have had similar coloring. As far as Scarlett knew, Brianne was childless, so absent children wouldn’t complicate matters. Scarlett thought this was a safe and suitable choice. If she hadn’t seen her cousin in twenty-two years, it was unlikely that they would ever see each other again. It would not be a risk for her family here to meet Sadie as Brianne because they probably would never meet the authentic one. But, if the day should ever come when their paths crossed again, if Rhett or her children met the real Brianne, Scarlett hoped she would finally be able to speak the truth to her family; she wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.

“But, why am I here?” Sadie whispered as Scarlett took her hip measurement in order to stealthily get some frocks made for her; she certainly wouldn’t fit into any of Scarlett’s. “Why did I come without my husband? And what makes you think that no one will check up on my story?”

“We hardly know of any of the goings-on in the North,” was Scarlett’s reply. “And why shouldn’t my word be good enough? Your husband couldn’t get away–or he is away–you’ve been visiting Uncle James and Uncle Andrew in Savannah, and now you’d like to meet me, your cousin, here. That’s that.”

Before Sadie–or Brianne–could make an appearance, she needed a trunk, clothing, and accessories…and a letter of introduction to make her visit seem legitimate. Scarlett put Sadie to the task of composing an introductory note before supper, convincing her that no one would find out if she had or hadn’t just been in Savannah. Scarlett’s uncles led quiet lives now in their late years, their children grown and their businesses out of their direct management. The Queen of England could have visited them and probably no one outside of the family would have known.

“Unless someone checked,” Sadie countered.

“Pooh. If you’re thinking Rhett would care to check on my O’Hara kin, you’re wrong. He’ll take my–and your–word for it, I’m sure. But if not…” Scarlett paused after having second thoughts. “I’ll write to Uncle James and Uncle Andrew just to be sure–and I’ll ask them about Brianne. You see, the O’Haras are a very loyal family. My father’s brothers would have done anything to help my father, and they’d do anything to help me, should I request their assistance. All I need to do is tell them what to say should anyone inquire about you.”

“You didn’t grow up on soaps like I did. If you had, you would know that it’d be better to come clean and be honest from the start. These sort of things can come back to bite you,” Sadie warned, though Scarlett disregarded the advice.

By supper, Scarlett had the completed letter in her possession; and after the meal, she revealed the details.

“This is what she wrote to me, Rhett,” Scarlett said, pulling the note from her pocket in order to read it to him while they sat at the table with cups of coffee before them.

            _Dear Cousin Katie Scarlett,_

_I know this is on terribly short notice, but I wanted to make contact with you as I am traveling through the state. I’ve been visiting with Grandpa O’Hara and Great Uncle Andrew’s families in Savannah for several weeks. In this time, we’ve discussed Great Uncle Gerald a great deal, and your name has come up several times. I feel I’ve neglected your part of our family for far too long, and family has become so important to me as I’ve grown older. I remember meeting you in Savannah many years ago; you were maybe five years old at the time. We have never corresponded and I do believe that needs to be remedied. If you have any interest, I would like to come for a visit to Atlanta before I return home so we can become acquainted. Perhaps it may be possible to visit with your sister as well. Please send your reply in care of your uncle, James O’Hara. I do look forward to meeting you again._

_Your cousin,_

_Brianne Hall_

“She has a very interesting hand,” Rhett commented after examining the offered letter. Sadie’s handwriting certainly was of a more modern variety.

“Well, she is a Yankee,” Scarlett offered, as if Northerners were a species from another planet.

Rhett chuckled at Scarlett’s deduction.

“Do you have any objection to an invitation?”

“It seems she’s made one herself,” he commented with a lifted brow before rising to retrieve the brandy bottle.

“Well, she is family,” Scarlett argued after a sip of coffee. “And I haven’t kept up with my cousins as well as I should have. It might be nice to meet her again. Of course, I hardly remember her.”

Scarlett drew her eyes away from his as Rhett returned to his chair, slightly disappointed in herself for spinning these lies. It didn’t feel right, no matter how secretive Rhett might be in return, and she somewhat wished that she had taken Sadie’s counsel. At least when she came home from modern Atlanta, she hadn’t exactly lied to Rhett; she had merely kept the truth to herself. How would the truth have helped? It did nothing to change their lives here and now, she reasoned. At the time, what had her secrets hurt? But now, she was weaving a tangled web beyond her previous silence on the matter. Maybe it would have been better to come clean and tell Rhett that there was a woman up in her bedroom that had appeared out of the ether; a woman who had been her friend in another time. But she felt that she was in too deep now to claw her way up to the surface with any grace.

 “And she hardly remembers you, _Katie Scarlett_ ,” said Rhett, cutting through her distraction.

Scarlett glanced at Rhett sideways after noting the teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never envisioned you as a Katie.”

“Pa called me _Katie_ – _Katie Scarlett_.”

“Oh, I remember,” Rhett interjected with a devilish grin.

Scarlett couldn’t help but smile back, her cheeks turning a faint pink at the memory of the aftermath of her father’s last meeting with her current husband. Her father had certainly demanded that Rhett never see her again. Scarlett had to avert her eyes as her amusement increased, wondering what Gerald O’Hara’s reaction would be if he could see his daughter now, married to this man of ill repute, this man that was too clever with cards to be a gentleman. It was very likely that Gerald would now approve of Rhett as his son-in-law, seeing as how most of the Old Guard had recently embraced this former Southern disgrace. If the good and old families of Georgia had accepted Rhett Butler, Gerald would surely have stepped in line.

Scarlett silently watched Rhett draw from his cigar with an elegance she had always noticed in him, the smoke wafting in a stream and dispersing above his head. It was a rare evening that he stayed home after supper. Bonnie had already been put to bed, but Rhett did not escape to another political meeting this night, though there wasn’t much left for him to do before the December governor’s election; the Democrat, James Smith, was running unopposed. Rhett’s work was nearly done and he was only beginning to reap the rewards of his effort.

“I’m named after my grandmother,” Scarlett added.

“And how did you come to be known only as _Scarlett_.”

“Well…I don’t know,” Scarlett answered with a surprised laugh. “Someone must not have been very formal in my family. Suellen’s birth name is Susan Elinor and Careen’s is Caroline Irene.”

“Now, that sounds like the work of your father,” Rhett determined, holding up an empty glass, silently asking Scarlett if she’d like some brandy.

“No, thank you,” she replied, circling the warm cup of coffee with both hands, watching him pour a glass for himself. Scarlett was eager to return to her room and free Sadie from the confines of her closet, but she had to be sure that her plan was able to be set into motion first. And she had to admit that it was nice to sit here with Rhett again like they had done occasionally during the first year of their marriage. If Sadie hadn’t been there, Scarlett would have been hesitant to reject his offer or shorten this visit.

“But, _Scarlett_ … I think that was decided by your mother.”

“Do you think so?”

“Did she ever call you _Katie_?”

“No, not that I can remember.”

Rhett nodded his head as if the case was settled.

“And _Bonnie_ was your idea.”

“I didn’t think you minded it,” Rhett commented, seeming somewhat surprised by Scarlett tone. If there was any irritation behind her words, it had to do with the fact that Melanie Wilkes had helped decide the name with Rhett, leaving Scarlett completely out of the decision on naming her own daughter.

“No, I don’t mind,” Scarlett replied. “Though I think Bonnie would have made a lovely _Victoria_.”

  
“Not _Eugenie_?” Rhett countered. “Or had you the same plans as your mother?”     

“No, but now that we know Bonnie so much better, she doesn’t seem like a _Eugenie_ to me, but she would be darling as a _Victoria_ , that’s all,” Scarlett concluded with a shrug of her shoulders. “So, you don’t mind my cousin visiting for a spell?”

“A _spell_ , is it? And what is the exact length of a spell, my dear? Two weeks? A month? What if you find that you don’t enjoy her company?”

Scarlett smiled to herself, recalling the select moments when this statement had been true. Yes, to spend days, weeks, or even months with Sadie Grier might be a challenge. They had been getting along much better as of late, but even if there was to be a quarrel, she couldn’t rightly ask Sadie to leave. Where would she go? How would she return to 2011, then? Sadie was here to stay until the crisis had been resolved.

“Oh, I’m sure you can help me out with that,” Scarlett teased. “You’re quite against the Yankees now, aren’t you? You’ve removed them from your social calendar? You would rather die than be caught with one of them? I’m sure you’ll find no difficulty in deciding that a Yankee should not be living under your roof, even if she is my kin. Then it won’t be my fault if she’s asked to leave, and I can avoid any family quarrel.”

Rhett pulled another drag from his cigar, a smile upon his lips.

“So, you’re still finding it difficult to accept that your husband is a turncoat? But you forget, my dear, I chose the winning side.”

“Just in the nick of time,” she said smartly.

“Well, you can thank Bonnie for it,” Rhett replied with absolute sincerity.

Scarlett looked down before taking a sip of her warm beverage; again reminded that Bonnie was the only one who could make Rhett change his ways.

“I think I’ll send a message to Brianne tomorrow morning and tell her that she’ll be welcome anytime…that is if you have no objections.”

“No. No. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. You know as well as I do how these situations can progress. There aren’t to be any complaints directed at me when March rolls around and your cousin is still occupying one of our guest rooms.”

“March! Why, I doubt she’ll even be here in December. We aren’t close, after all. I don’t suspect a visit of a long duration,” Scarlett said, hoping it was the truth. At least she had an idea of how to get Sadie back home; now all they had to do was determine the safest method possible.

“Send the invitation,” Rhett encouraged, setting his empty brandy glass to the side. “It might be very interesting to have another fiery O’Hara in the house.”

“Fiery. Hah! She and I are nothing alike,” Scarlett said without thinking, but Rhett caught her mistake.

“Are you saying you have knowledge of her temperament? I thought you said you hardly remember her.”

“Oh, I remember her well enough to know she’s not like me,” Scarlett quickly answered after drawing her eyes from his, hoping to buy herself a moment of time. “Though I suppose…” Scarlett reconsidered for effect, “she could have changed in the last twenty years or so.”

“It’s quite possible,” Rhett agreed, leaning back in the chair with his cigar.

“When she was eleven, she reminded me of a mousy, young Melanie Hamilton–from what I remember. She was quiet and kept to herself. She always had a book open in front of her,” Scarlett said truthfully, recalling her memories of the genuine Brianne O’Hara from the only time their paths had crossed.

“Well, that’s disappointing to hear. As much as I admire Miss Melly, I wouldn’t exactly consider her an entertaining guest. You– Or someone like you, on the other hand, I might welcome with more enthusiasm.”

“Oh, you would, would you?” Scarlett reacted, her spine growing longer, a spark of jealousy jabbing her stomach from the manner of Rhett’s comment. There was a hesitation growing within her, wondering if Sadie’s introduction to the family was such a wise idea. She wasn’t like Melanie in the least, save for the physical presence of a widow’s peak. And what if Rhett developed an interest in her, one that he had just now hinted at? What if he decided to play with Sadie as he had once played with her? He wouldn’t dare! Scarlett locked her eyes to Rhett as she rose from her chair, unconsciously marking her territory. Instead of taking Rhett’s compliment for herself, she had somehow attached it solely to Sadie. “We shall see,” Scarlett said sharply, plucking Sadie’s note from the center of the table and tucking it into her pocket. “I think I’ll turn in now. Goodnight, Rhett.”

Scarlett nodded her head, finally drawing her eyes from his when he rose from his chair.

“Goodnight, _Katie_ Scarlett,” Rhett said silkily when Scarlett turned away from him, not catching the look in his unmasked eyes that silently asked her to stay.

She exited the dining room with poise, putting all those foolish thoughts aside once leaving Rhett’s company. He sometimes conjured up such strange feelings within her. “What a silly goose I’ve become,” she scolded herself before bounding up the steps with care. “Poor Sadie’s entire body must be cramping by now.”

When Scarlett reached her room, she found Prissy laying out her nightgown and turning down the bed.

“You’ve read my mind,” Scarlett said thankfully, closing the door behind her. She immediately began unbuttoning the front of her bodice when she sat for Prissy to remove her hairpins, hoping to expedite the process. As soon as Prissy left, Sadie could again move freely.

“Miss Scarlett?”

The hesitancy in Prissy’s voice told Scarlett that the arising question was to be about Sadie Grier. They had not discussed the incident since the two women had met.

“Yes, Prissy?”

“Who was that woman today?”

“From this morning?” Scarlett asked casually, as if it had been nothing out of the ordinary. “Well, in fact, she is my cousin.”

“Your cousin, Miss Scarlett?”

“An O’Hara cousin. Her Pa is from Savannah–my cousin, Brian. Her name is Brianne Hall.”

“She sound like a Yankee.”

“She is. Her Pa moved north long before she was born.”

“She dress awful strange,” Prissy said, leaning around Scarlett to lay down a handful of hairpins on the vanity. “Her words were strange, too.”

“Well, she is a Yankee.”

This was becoming Scarlett’s set answer for any difference found between Sadie and the rest of womankind.

“There’s lots of Yankee women ‘round here. Ain’t none of ‘em dress that way–like in costume. I think she had paint on her face–”

“I’m sure she’ll be dressed more appropriately when you see her the next time,” Scarlett interjected. “She’s coming to stay with us for a while.”

Prissy’s chin drew back in surprise.

“But I can’t have you spreading the word about her just yet. Everything I ordered this morning still applies. Brianne’s settling some things up right now, but didn’t want to involve anyone else but me. She was a bit upset this morning, which is probably why she wasn’t making much sense when you spoke with her. Rhett knows that she’s coming, but he needn’t know that she was here earlier today. No one needs to know it. So, you must say that the first time you met her was when she arrived here to stay, and that day hasn’t come yet. Do you understand?”

“Yes’m.”

“You never saw her here today,” Scarlett stated, her eyes burning into the mirror and reflecting back to Prissy, conveying that there would be consequences for her betrayal of this information.

“No, Miss Scarlett. I ain’t never saw her. Does she have a secret?” Prissy pressed.

“We all have secrets,” Scarlett answered back mysteriously while removing her jewelry, as if it was the final word. “All right,” she said, bounding up from her bench. “Help me loosen my stays and you are dismissed for the night.”

“Yes, Miss Scarlett,” Prissy said, carrying her head a little higher because of the very exclusive knowledge that she held.

Scarlett locked the door behind Prissy and made sure the others were secure before quickly changing into her nightgown and returning to the closet. When she pulled back the costume, Scarlett found Sadie asleep, her head propped up where the two walls met, her hands limp in the narrow space between her stomach and thighs. The scene was so peaceful that Scarlett hesitated in waking her, but she knew of the pain that would settle into the woman’s joints and muscles after her hours-long nap. While lightly nudging her arm, Scarlett whispered her name.

When she came to, Sadie groggily responded, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s _me_ ,” Scarlett responded in kind, annoyed by Sadie’s unappreciative tone. Though, her next words explained the attitude.

“So, I’m still stuck in a closet circa eighteen seventy-one?” she said, pushing her eyeglasses up to the bridge of her nose. “It wasn’t a dream?”

“No,” Scarlett answered quietly. “It’s safe to come out now. We’re locked in.”

Sadie straightened her legs out for relief, accidentally kicking over several pairs of Scarlett’s slippers.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, immediately finding her way to her knees and blindly setting them upright.

“It’s all right,” Scarlett said while picking up the empty water glass Sadie had knocked over with her hip in the process. “You’re forgiven. You finished the water; did you eat all the bread?”

“Yes, it was delicious. And then I tried to eat one of your shoes à la Charlie Chaplin.”

“You what?”

“Joking. Just joking. But I am still really hungry.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get much for you yet, but I don’t generally carry food to my bedroom, nor do I ask for it beyond breakfast. But, I’ll figure out some way of feeding you while you’re hiding. I’d try to sneak some food from the pantry tonight, but I’m afraid I might get caught. I’ll request additional food when Prissy brings up my breakfast tray in the morning and I’ll give you as much of my portion as you need.”

“I can’t wait,” she eagerly replied. “Speaking of… Can I use your bathroom again?” Sadie asked, rising cautiously to her feet on her creaky legs.

Scarlett nodded.

“I’ll make sure it’s clear.”

“May I say how thankful I am that you have a modernish bathroom? I don’t know if you could get me into an outhouse ever again. I remember the one at my grandma’s lake place. It had a thriving spider population.”

“And I know how much you like spiders,” Scarlett teased as they walked to the bathing room. “But, Brianne–you’re going to have to get used to that name, and so am I. If Brianne is so interested in seeing Tara, she might have to become acquainted with a privy.”

“I shudder to think,” Sadie answered as Scarlett peeked her head into the empty room.

Scarlett locked the door to the hall and again apologized for not having the modern toiletries of which Sadie was accustomed.

“I wish I had your pleasant hand soap. I do miss that…though…” Scarlett paused to sniff, “you smell like your soap–like my mother. The scent must have clung to you from this morning.”

“I smell like what?” Sadie asked, sniffing. “Lemon?”

Scarlett nodded.

“I’m trying out a new lemongrass-scented deodorant. I suppose deodorant doesn’t exist now, does it?” Sadie decided with a wrinkled nose, her struggle with the realities of the nineteenth century just beginning. “And what about cleaning my teeth?”

Scarlett thought back to the minty toothpaste she had used in 2011. Sadie would surely miss something refreshing like that considering she, Scarlett, had missed it herself.

“I’ll get you a toothbrush at my store tomorrow. And you’ll just have to grow accustomed to the paste.” After procuring a fresh towel for Sadie, Scarlett said, “I’ll find something for you to put on for the night.”

“I won’t be fitting into anything of yours,” Sadie said with certainty.

“My nightgowns are quite spacious, much like that t-shirt you gave me to sleep in–but modest, as you can see” she added, indicating that her legs were not showing now and recalling her complaints to Sadie following Matt’s greeting that morning, when she felt practically naked. “These gowns would fit almost anyone. And besides, you’re not considerably bigger than me. You won’t need much more room,” Scarlett said before closing the door to leave Sadie with some privacy.

After Sadie was dressed, she dropped off her clothes in the closet and then approached Scarlett, who was sitting at her vanity, faithfully brushing her thick hair. She watched via the mirror while Sadie took in the flickering gaslights on the wall next to the door and the flames in the glowing bedside lamps. Scarlett nearly laughed, noting that the nightgown was in fact slightly too small for Sadie, the hem not falling low enough to cover the ankles, the fabric rather tight to her shoulders and upper torso.

Sadie must have read Scarlett’s expression.

“Yes, how does big cousin look in little cousin’s _spacious_ nightgown?” she asked, turning toward the full-length mirror across the room while she adjusted her eyeglasses.

“Uncomfortable,” said Scarlett.

“It’s not so bad, I can breathe fine, though I shouldn’t raise my arms too far. I could pop the stitches.” Returning her attention to Scarlett, she said, “I still can’t believe I’m here, that this is real. Is my jaw dragging on the floor?”

“No, not quite,” Scarlett said before running the brush down her locks again.

“Is this the normal evening routine?” Sadie asked curiously. “The hairbrush was much more important in this time–something about evenly distributing the natural oils and removing the dirt. You wash your brush more often than your hair, I assume?”

Scarlett nodded.

“Oh, and you have one of those hair receiver things, too,” Sadie said, tilting the rose-painted porcelain pot to peek into the hole on top. “Please don’t tell me you make weird art with the contents.”

“Art?”

“When I gave tours at that warden’s house, they had wreathes or objects in shadowboxes hanging on the walls that were made of human hair. It just kinda,” Sadie paused to stick out her tongue for a millisecond, “grossed me out. One of the long-term guides told me that they used the hair from a hair receiver to make them.”

“I know of hair work like that, but they probably don’t use this sort of hair. This is used to make rats, which I have relied on since you cut my hair,” she said with slight complaint.

“Rats…? Oh, rats–rats that boost your volume. That makes sense,” Sadie decided while she leaned her lower back against the wall next to the vanity. “So…would it be too much to ask if I can somehow find a way to lay flat in your closet tonight instead of folding up behind the dresses? I’m not sure my back can take it. And would you have a spare blanket and pillow?”

“You want to sleep in the closet?” Scarlett asked confusedly. She lowered the brush to her thigh.

“Unless you have a way of sneaking me out and hiding me somewhere else. I mean, I feel kind of weird even being in the closet tonight since–”

“Since what?” Scarlett asked, her brows coming together in question.

“Well, since your husband…” Sadie’s face darkened in the orange light. “I wouldn’t want to eavesdrop or anything. Maybe with your closet door shut it’ll be OK, but–”

“Oh, but Rhett isn’t–” Scarlett’s face flushed, too. “He doesn’t– I mean, he won’t sleep here tonight,” she disclosed.

“He won’t? But I thought–” Sadie was clearly puzzled.

“No. You need not be concerned. He won’t be here tonight. You don’t have to sleep in the closet. You can sleep in the bed.”

“The bed? Oh, are you going over–? You’re sleeping in his bed,” Sadie decided.

“No.” There was frustration growing in Scarlett’s whispering voice. She wasn’t about to let out the truth that she and Rhett did not share a bed anymore. They never officially questioned her about the subject in 2011, and Scarlett was thankful, and fairly certain, that this fact had not followed her family into the future.

“I’ll be here with you. I can’t…” Scarlett quickly thought up a reason why she and Rhett would not be sharing a bed. “Well, I can’t very well leave you here alone. We can share my bed.”

“Are you sure? I can take one of the settees,” Sadie suggested. “The one near the fireplace?”

“It’s an enormous bed,” Scarlett pointed out. “It won’t be a bother to me. You should be comfortable at night at the very least, since I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get everything ready for Brianne’s visit.”

She couldn’t allow Sadie to have an uncomfortable night when she was going to be sent back to her cell of velvet and taffeta tomorrow when the day began.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course,” Scarlett answered generously, again lifting the brush to her hair.

“OK,” Sadie said hesitantly, launching herself away from the wall. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Sadie ambled to the foot of the bed, stopping at the center of the footboard and stared at the shadows flickering across coverlet.

“This is… This is insane,” Sadie quietly said, nodding her head in agreement with her own words. She then turned her attention back to Scarlett. “Is there a particular side that I should…?”

“You can have the left,” Scarlett answered while beginning to braid her hair, granting Rhett’s side of the bed to the woman. Since Rhett’s departure, Scarlett had slowly appropriated the entire bed during her slumber, but there had been a period of time where Rhett’s side had remained cold and untouched. Almost as a sort of self-punishment, Scarlett had confined herself to her half for weeks because she knew that she’d made a mistake in asking him to leave; she had never felt lonelier. Tonight, she would have to quickly become accustomed to sharing a bed again and keep to her own side.

By the time Scarlett returned from the bathing room, Sadie had turned out her lamp and had settled under the sheet and blankets, studying the screen of her phone, obviously hoping for some miracle contact with 2011. After Scarlett had put out the remaining lamps, she slipped into bed. The glowing screen in Sadie’s hands reminded Scarlett of the nights when the only light in the room had been from the ember of Rhett’s cigar. How long had it been since Rhett had occupied that space? Two years? It had to have been over two years. Though, how could Scarlett ever forget that night seven months ago? That night… That night that had somehow set her on a path to 2011 if she were to connect the dots. It was the same path that led her to meet this woman now lying beside her.

“Do you still want to go through with this?” Sadie voiced into the dim light.

“With what?”

“Lying and telling everyone that I’m your cousin. It’s going to take a lot more energy to pull this off than it would to tell the truth.”

“Yes. It’s the only way,” Scarlett confirmed.

“Why?”

“Because…well, because– It’s too late. I’ve already told Rhett and Prissy about you–or Brianne. And– And no one would believe the truth, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

Scarlett rolled onto her side to face her bedfellow.

“Sadie, you didn’t even believe me!” she stated with exasperation. “And you have all sorts of stories in your time about this kind of happening. It’s not a possibility we generally discuss in our time. But, you, even though you knew it could happen, you didn’t believe that I was Scarlett O’Hara.”

A smile appeared on Sadie’s lips for a brief moment before disappearing in the darkness when she rested the phone on her stomach.

“Game. Set. Match. Although, to be fair, I was ultimately trying to protect your legacy from a swindler–and I am sorry for accusing you of being said swindler. I’m usually not a very trusting person. Unfortunately, you had to experience that, firsthand. I did doubt you for quite a while, but I think… I think there was always a part of me that somehow believed– Well, you know I warmed up to the idea, and then the DNA test ultimately proved me wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“The DNA test you took was a match. We were going to tell you the result after the party, but then you disappeared. You’re definitely one of the family.”

“Well, I bet you felt stupid,” Scarlett snidely commented, masking her giddiness at the knowledge of the results.

Sadie quietly laughed at the comment.

“If only you could have been a fly on the wall… Thank goodness I didn’t have to endure the Gloat Fest…unless you’ve just started it?”

“A Gloat Fe–? Oh. No. But you might deserve it,” Scarlett answered swiftly and then fell silent.

“I do,” Sadie agreed. “But to explain my reasoning… There are many more frauds in life than time travelers, aren’t there? It was more logical that you were a fake. A time travel scenario is not something that all of us would easily accept.”

“Well, Rhett won’t accept it either.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’ll think I’ve lost my mind. Don’t forget, I haven’t been gone from this time. From the moment of my accident until the night of the grand opening, he and I have seen each other; I’ve spoken with him. I remember it all now, from my dreams.”

“Your dreams?”

“When you get home, you’ll remember, through your dreams, everything you said and did in two thousand eleven. At least, that’s how I remembered it all: every conversation, everything the children said, every place I went, everything I wore… It’s very strange to have two different memories for each day of my life over two months,” Scarlett commented as if it was the first time she was realizing this. “I was here and Rhett knew that I was here the whole time. And when we parted, it’s because he sent me off to Tara, not to two thousand eleven. How do I tell him that my mind and my body were not here when we had spoken face-to-face during that time? How can I explain that I was in two places at once? If I had been missing from this time, perhaps, but…”

“That’s a good point,” Sadie conceded. “It’s harder to explain parallel lives to someone who has no background in physics. But, what if we provided some evidence? There’re two of us now. And doesn’t he know you well enough to know that you don’t have a screw loose?”

Sadie lifted her phone again and brought up the photo of the two of them at Tara, turning it for Scarlett to view.

“See, evidence: you and me at modern Tara. Wouldn’t he believe this? It’s visual proof. I can vouch for you. And, really, isn’t the phone evidence enough?”

“He would probably think you were the swindler now, trying to take advantage of us,” Scarlett said, amused with her assessment. “You’re a trickster using smoke and mirrors and a sleight of hand to create that photograph on a screen you can hold in your palm. I thought it was something magical when I first saw Dylan’s. Rhett would make you leave and never let you set foot in this home again, and then you’d never get back home. And because I would come to your defense, Rhett would know for certain that I’d lost my mind and he would leave with Bonnie, forever. No, this is for the best. What Rhett doesn’t know, won’t harm him. You need to be here in order for us to determine how you’ll get back. As you said, we need time to do that. Rhett must believe that you belong here.”

“What about this one? Or this one?” Sadie asked, flipping to photographs of them refurbishing the graves of Gerald, Ellen, and Scarlett’s brothers. “You’re dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Your hair is in a ponytail and you finally have bangs after all these years. Oh,” Sadie exhaled in remembrance, her eyes growing wide when she turned to Scarlett, “what did he say when he saw them? The bangs, I mean.”

“Oh, my hair? Well… He hated what I’d done at first, but now he says he doesn’t mind it,” Scarlett simply answered.

“See. He’s not always right, is he?”

“No,” Scarlett answered, smiling at the thought.

Sadie switched her phone off and set it on the bedside table next to her eyeglasses.

“We’ll do it your way,” she conceded, returning to her back. “It’s your home, your family. I’ll be your cousin. My name is Brianne O’Hara Hall, and my husband is Matthew Hall, which should not be hard to remember,” she said, making reference to her own _Matt_. “I’ll go along with it, but I know your husband would believe you,” Sadie assured. “Goodnight, Katie Scarlett” she said for practice, before falling silent in the darkness.

“Goodnight,” Scarlett replied quietly, wondering why Sadie was so confident in her belief when she didn’t know Rhett at all.

For a time, Scarlett’s eyes remained closed, but sleep did not come, her adrenaline continuing to pump strongly through her veins. What a situation she found herself in! She had never had to plan such an elaborate scheme before. Fooling Frank Kennedy was one thing, but Rhett…? The closest she had come to success was approaching him in the form of a queen with hopes of a proposal so she could get her hands on the tax money for Tara. She almost got away with it, but not quite. Would this person beside her have any more success? Could this woman outsmart Rhett Butler? Scarlett didn’t know her well enough to know for certain, but Sadie seemed bright enough to make it a possibility. Scarlett opened her eyes again and caught Sadie bringing her hands together and settling them on her stomach. Though she was silent, it appeared as if Sadie’s lips were moving in prayer, perhaps asking for help in outsmarting the populace of the nineteenth century. Scarlett opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of interrupting her in this private moment. Instead, she again closed her eyes. Other senses began to take over and Scarlett breathed in the scent hovering around the pillow next to her. Unbeknownst to her, Scarlett had extended her neck, decreasing the space between them, and was made aware only at the sound of Sadie’s voice.

“Are you smelling my hair?” Sadie asked, confused amusement in her words.

Embarrassed, Scarlett drew away and rolled onto her back.

“I miss that shampoo,” Scarlett whispered longingly to the ceiling. “The lavender. The rosemary. Oh, how I miss the conditioner.”

“If I would have known that I was dropping by for a visit, I would have brought some with me.”

“If only you could have,” Scarlett sighed, pulling at the paintbrush tail of her braid before turning her attention back to Sadie. Curiously, she asked, “Were you praying just now?”

“Yes,” Sadie hesitantly admitted. “Is that surprising?”

“Yes, a little.”

“It should surprise me, too. I’m not very religious anymore; too many doubts. Though,” Sadie paused, her cheeks shifting with a grin, “I still cannot get myself to break the second commandment. I just can’t do it. I suppose that means part of me still believes… So, if you ever happen to catch me saying the words _God_ , _Lord_ , or _Jesus Christ_ in anger, you’ll know that I’m really, really, insanely furious. Otherwise, I freely use every other offensive word in the dictionary, as you probably know by now.”

“You’ll have to manage that much more carefully here, _Brianne_ ,” Scarlett suggested.

“I might suggest the same to you, _Katie Scarlett_. What was it you said earlier? God’s nightgown? I’ve never heard that phrase before,” she said, a giggle weaving through her words.

“Pa said it.”

“Well, it’d be a good replacement for one of my cruder expressions. At least I’m not demanding that God damn something or someone, I’d only be referencing the Lord’s sleepwear. It’s quite a brilliant loophole,” she decided with a smile. “In any case, I’ll try to dull my tongue.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your prayer,” Scarlett sincerely apologized.

“It’s all right. It was just the normal routine…counting my blessings, giving thanks for my family…my ancestors,” she spoke to the ceiling before rolling her head to the left. “Each day, I try to remember those that paved my path, those that gave me a chance; I suppose tonight shouldn’t be any different. It helps me to fall asleep.”

“Oh,” Scarlett voiced reflectively.

“I suppose you wouldn’t expect that of me. I suppose it sounds strange.”

“No, it’s not strange,” Scarlett said knowingly. She hadn’t exactly thought of her ancestors in that manner before, but understood immediately what Sadie was expressing. Because of the courage and cleverness of the Robillards and Prudhommes and the Scarletts and the O’Haras, she had known great happiness and security for her first seventeen years. They had given her a life that she would always be grateful for, even if much of it had been lost to her in the subsequent years. And even though that life had been lost, hadn’t they given her the strength and intelligence to press on and reclaim what the war had taken from her? Everything within her had come from them and they deserved her gratitude.

“My ancestors have helped me at my worst times. I suppose they’ve helped me find sleep, too. When I’ve thought all was hopeless, I remembered them, and knew I could live through another day,” Scarlett revealed.

Sadie nodded her head in agreement and rolled to her side.

“Right now I’ve been thinking of those that immigrated to this country with barely a penny to their name. Think of the bravery they must have had to leave behind everything they had ever known, their families, everything, to start a new life. That took real courage. And I know that I have to have it in this situation. It’s not that different from what they went through. I’m in a new land, so to speak.”

Sadie tucked her arms underneath the thick blankets.

"I was reminding myself of the blessings I do have. And today, I’m blessed that you found me and are helping me. And… I’m actually very happy to be here, despite the pit of terror festering in my stomach. I want to go home, but this is the most amazing opportunity I’ve ever had. Most people don’t get this chance.”

“You almost sound glad that this happened to you,” said Scarlett, amused–and puzzled–by the attitude.

“In a way, I’m very glad. And it’s such an exciting time in history. I have goose bumps just thinking about what I might see–who I’ll meet. And there are so many incredible people alive today. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglass, Mark Twain, Ulysses S. Grant, Edison, Darwin, young Teddy Roosevelt, Monet, Manet. I’ll shut up before I list off all the Impressionists… Robert E. Lee is already gone, isn’t he?” Sadie asked, disappointment in her voice.

Scarlett nodded.

“I would have liked to have met him. He seemed like the most gentlemanly of gentlemen, you know? Real honorable. Of course I’m not really going to meet these people, probably… But to interview even just one of them…I get chills. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony did so much for me. For all women.”

Scarlett noticed a few droplets fall from Sadie’s eyes and onto the pillow, and was puzzled as to why such emotion was conjured by thoughts of women’s suffrage advocates, though Scarlett was unfamiliar with their other causes such as women’s property rights and access to family planning. If she had known that, she might have shed a tear herself at the mention of their names.

“Even in my predicament, I think I can somewhat turn lemons into lemonade.”

“Lemons into…? Oh, I see. To sweeten something that’s sour. That’s good,” Scarlett encouraged, hoping to keep Sadie’s spirits up.

“Thank you so much, Scarlett. I know I’m safe here. I always feel that way when I’m in this house.”

Scarlett warmed at her words.

“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else but you guiding me through this. My life is in your very capable hands. I know you won’t fail me.”

And with that, Sadie turned her back to Scarlett and snuggled into the blankets. Silence again fell over the room.

Scarlett smiled, pleased with Sadie’s appreciative words. It wasn’t that this was the first time Scarlett had ever helped someone, but she rarely received genuine thanks. She provided for her aunts, but they generally only gave a perfunctory ‘thank you’–if at all–when they wrote. Melanie was grateful for Ashley’s position, but again, there was a certain level of expectation and veiled neediness that few other people saw. And Aunt Pitty? Well, when she had received Scarlett’s money and protection, she would generally hint at a need for even more, thinking it all right since Scarlett was dear Charlie’s widow. But this time, someone truly needed her; and this someone would not have asked for assistance if she hadn’t truly needed it. Scarlett understood Sadie well enough to know that she was an independent sort of woman. She never would expect anything of Scarlett if she could provide it for herself. Scarlett knew the fear that must be running through Sadie’s mind. She was putting on a brave face, just as Scarlett had, but Scarlett hadn’t forgotten the nights of weeping into her pillow when she thought her family had been lost forever. Sadie would certainly feel some of the same and Scarlett vowed to herself that she would make it as easy as possible for Sadie to stand it. And Sadie would be back home as soon as they could get her there.

“I’m sorry about taking your husband’s place tonight,” Sadie whispered her apology, half into her pillow. “I hope _Brianne Hall_ can arrive soon so he can return to you.”

“So do I,” Scarlett automatically replied, uncertain of how much truth had been imbedded in her lie…if it had been a lie at all.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more Rhett in this chapter. Yay!

Part Two

 

Chapter 20

 

One usually adapts to living without companionship once it’s been lost, but when it’s rediscovered, it can be rather rejuvenating.

For most of Scarlett’s life, she had been without a true companion. Besides Cathleen Calvert, in her youth, she had never had a true female friend. She supposed others might consider Melanie as such, though Scarlett could never reveal her entire self to Melanie, for good reason. Even in the presence of her newer friends–an ever-decreasing circle–she was not able to be the Scarlett O’Hara that had been raised as Ellen O’Hara’s daughter. She wasn’t sure what she had become at the naissance of these new friendships at the time of her third marriage, but she didn’t completely recognize herself. Never once had she shown weakness or vulnerability to this group, and hiding those truths had sometimes been draining. And then there was Rhett, who–she would later realize–had fit the role of companion to near perfection. No, this perfection was not constant, but in those moments when they could be intimate and candid, there was nothing more soothing to her spirit. Unfortunately, in catering to Ashley’s wishes, she had cast her partner aside and had received no tangible benefit from the action. She and Rhett hadn’t been the same to each other ever since that day, and she was again quite alone. So, it was a pleasant and revitalizing surprise when a new companion had been forced into her life.

Sadie Grier certainly wasn’t the perfect substitute for Rhett Butler, for Scarlett had to remain mute on a handful of subjects, unsure of what Sadie’s views would be on some of her questionable business practices. While Rhett would have applauded her for skimming a few extra dollars from a customer, something told her that Sadie might not be as enthusiastic. But, in general, Sadie was an easy person to talk to and Scarlett always gained vitality from communicating with other people and having an audience. Recent events had forever linked Scarlett and Sadie together, and their unique common experiences had somehow brought them instantly closer and had accelerated a friendship. Scarlett had never liked being alone. At least, now, she could share something of herself with someone, instead of nothing with no one at all.

And there was plentiful time for sharing.

Scarlett and Sadie did most everything in tandem, choreographing their moves in order for it to seem as if there was one person occupying Scarlett’s room, instead of two. If Sadie went to the bathing room, Scarlett would remain still until Sadie returned to her side. Either they would take turns in action or move together, one always creeping on tiptoes. But they could never move with freedom in opposite directions; it couldn’t be perceived that Scarlett was simultaneously in the bathing room and at her vanity. Sadie and Scarlett woke at the same time, ate breakfast together, brushed their teeth concurrently, and then at night, they attended to their toilet and went to bed at the same hour. And so far, despite their constant proximity, Sadie and Scarlett hadn’t gotten on each other’s nerves: a miraculous fact, indeed.

On Sadie’s first morning, Scarlett shared her experiences of her first night home after returning from the future; expressing her feelings about the moments after Rhett found her and how she felt when she saw her children after almost two months apart. While joy had eclipsed any other emotion that evening, she told Sadie of the frustrating struggles that she’d faced upon her return. There had been questions on her sanity based on her words, actions, and changed appearance, and because of that, Rhett had wanted to keep her separated from the children. His reaction alone had been the stimulus for concealing the truth, and Sadie began to see how that could have motivated Scarlett to remain silent. Now that she had everyone and everything back, how could she risk losing them once more?

On her second night, Sadie shared news of their mutual friends. First and foremost on Scarlett’s mind was Dylan Connolly. Sadie recalled the guilt that had set in the night that Scarlett had disappeared. Dylan had blamed himself for not protecting her better, having been so caught up in the festivities. He questioned his choice of inviting Scarlett to the grand opening and had almost wished that he had left her in Marietta that night. In an attempt to screen the knowledge of her future from her, he wondered if he had taken a future of any sort away from her. Of course, what had made the event so special was having Scarlett O’Hara there, not only in spirit, but also in body, and he knew Scarlett would have refused to stay home that night. This had been her party, her event; it had breathed life back into her. And by the end of the next day, Dylan had no regrets thanks to Scarlett’s message. Sadie expressed the gratitude of everyone for Scarlett’s thoughtful letter; it had turned their collective gloom into a celebration. Once Dylan knew that Scarlett had found her way home, he saw that everything had played out as it should have; he couldn’t have been more thrilled.

The Connolly family had been doing well since Scarlett’s exit, but they’d had to adjust to the sudden changes in the household. Carolyn had been missing Scarlett’s companionship and assistance throughout her weekdays and she was noticing that her professional work was progressing much more slowly since Scarlett had gone. Olivia was still bringing up Scarlett’s name regularly and Dylan had said that the house just wasn’t the same without their long-term guest, which brought a smile to Scarlett’s face. She had been missed, personally, and perhaps even professionally. Dylan had received multiple requests from members of the Atlanta Irish Institute after the grand opening party for Scarlett–specifically Kate Harvey–to give special group tours. Regrettably, he’d had to inform them that she was no longer living in the area. Scarlett beamed at the news of her popularity.

Peggy and her husband were both doing very well, free of any further health scares, and had just returned from a visit to Virginia to see their daughter and grandchildren. James was still faithfully giving his tours of the Butler Mansion and had been enthusiastic about refreshing them with Scarlett’s stories. He had already recorded a majority into a journal, but there were still more to add. And now with Sadie’s experience, he might have volumes to fill with her own tales. Yes, everyone had been quite well, especially Jennifer, as Sadie had explained when settled in bed that night:

 

_“I didn’t know you were famous as a matchmaker.”_

_“A matchmaker?” Scarlett asked._

_“Jen and Sean. I didn’t realize that you were setting them up the night of the grand opening.”_

_“Setting them up?”_

_“They’re dating now. Seeing each other. Courting, I suppose, is the word you use.”_

_“Sean? And Jen?” Scarlett asked unbelievingly before she fell silent, pondering the idea. But wasn’t Sean enamored with her? Wasn’t it she, Scarlett, he couldn’t keep his eyes from that night. He didn’t care a fig for Jennifer._

_“Yes. Isn’t it great news? They’ve been seeing each other since early October. I think there’s a permanent smile plastered on Jen’s face. I’m really happy for her. Sean’s a good guy.”_

_No, it couldn’t be true. Sean wanted her, not Jennifer. She had seen that all-too-familiar look in his eyes. Why would he so quickly switch his allegiance? He couldn’t wait to be by her side that night. The moment he was free of his duty with Jennifer, he sought Scarlett out. He had agreed to the entire evening to gain Scarlett’s favor. Surely he would have waited for her longer than that._

_“It’s great news, isn’t it?” Sadie repeated after not hearing a response. “Your project was a success.”_

_“Y– Yes,” Scarlett choked out with effort and no enthusiasm. “Of course. It’s f– fine news,” she answered, her voice pinched._

_“Oh…my…gosh…” Sadie slowly voiced with realization. “I was right; you did want him there for you.”_

_“I did not,” Scarlett answered grumpily._

_“You’re pissed. You’re jealous!” Sadie whispered her shock. “I told myself, ‘No. I know what this looks like, but that’s not what’s going on.’ And then when Jen and Sean started dating it all seemed to make sense again.”_

_“I am not jealous!” Scarlett hissed. But she was. She had honestly taken pleasure in Sean’s attention. It had been a long time since a man had shown interest in her in that way. And why shouldn’t she have delighted in it? Somehow, it felt like Jennifer had stolen him from her._

_“You forgot about your husband that quickly?” Sadie asked, clearly confused and disappointed. “Did you really think you’d never return to this time? Did you think you’d never see Rhett Butler again? You know Sean knew you were married. We told him you went back to Charleston to reunite with your husband. I never would have imagined that you’d move on so fast.”_

_“You’re wrong. I didn’t want Sean. Not at all,” Scarlett haughtily stated before turning her back to Sadie to slam the door on the conversation this evening. If anyone had moved on fast, it was Sean, Scarlett fumed as she pressed her face into the pillow._

So, _most_ of the news from 2011 Atlanta was welcome. However, it would take Scarlett a while to get over the story of the new lovebirds. Thankfully, Sadie did not press the topic any further. Her main focus was on the here and now.

It flattered Scarlett that Sadie showed so much interest in her life and family here in Atlanta and elsewhere. Though, of course, Scarlett realized that Sadie was gathering facts for future tours of this home after she returned to 2011. _And_ , after all, they were making certain that Sadie could pass as her cousin, as well. She was a very good and thorough student. Discussions were held on common phrases, word usage, manners, physical deportment, dining, undergarments, and clothing. When discussing the amount of skin a woman generally exposed, both their sets of eyes fell on Sadie’s wrist, the tattoo of _Grace_ darkly etched into her skin. Scarlett made a mental note to pass onto her dressmaker: make sure the sleeves are sufficiently long and tight at the wrist. Besides the unfortunate tattoo, Sadie, thankfully, had nothing else that needed concealment, unlike several of her salon employees that had holes in visible places well beyond their earlobes.

At first, Sadie’s hair was also a concern for Scarlett. It was long enough that Sadie could easily pin it up into the current styles, but she probably would not be able to use any of Scarlett’s rats now for added volume. Back in September, their hair was almost a perfect match in color and texture and would have been a fine piece of evidence that they were related. However, Scarlett noticed on Sadie’s first morning with her, that her hair color had been altered. A month ago, Sadie had removed the coloring and had gone back to her natural, and very deceptive, shade. In some light, it appeared nearly a blackish-brown, in other light, a soft brown, and then if a beam of sunlight or lamplight hit a lock just so, it glowed a coppery-red like the light from a burning flame. Scarlett soon realized that this was a good discovery. Her own black hair had come from her mother’s side, not Gerald O’Hara’s–and Brianne was an O’Hara, not a Robillard. All in all, it was actually an advantageous change that Sadie had made. A short time later, Scarlett would discover that their natural textures diverged as well. After Sadie wetted and washed her hair for the first time, curls appeared, much to Sadie’s disappointment. She expressed that she’d trade her kingdom for a flat iron–and dental floss and her electric toothbrush and, well, the list went on and on… She hated the voluminous ringlets that initially appeared, though they gradually relaxed into soft waves hours later. While Sadie disliked her own hair, Scarlett was a bit jealous. It must have been so easy to style. Sadie would never have difficulty in mastering the hair fashions of today like Scarlett had with her slippery hair. If they’d had a magic wand, Sadie said, they could have swapped hair immediately and then both would have been fully satisfied: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman with straight hair wishes it were curly and a woman with curly hair wishes it were straight.”

 

While Scarlett’s visitor had been enthusiastic and optimistic about her stay, there were moments of true panic, as Scarlett had predicted.

On Sadie’s first night, she woke from a nightmare–thankfully in silence. Though, while sitting up to clear her head, her movements had unintentionally jostled Scarlett awake as well. Sadie immediately whispered her concerns. She had dreamt that she’d been in her apartment’s kitchen. Her cats approached her, begging, and she had instantly realized that she’d forgotten to feed them for weeks.

“I nearly killed them,” she lamented.

Sadie rationalized that either her second self was still living her normal life–and continuing to feed her cats–or, if she had disappeared, Matt had a key and would make sure that Buckley and Frances Gumm had everything that they needed. But, in this moment, she needed reinforcement from Scarlett that all would be well. Scarlett didn’t know exactly what to say, what promises she could make, but she remained positive:

“Of course they’ll be fine. As you said, either way, they’ll be cared for. It makes perfect sense,” she assured.

Another source of anxiety was the mystifying subject of time travel. Scarlett found Sadie’s contemplations about the potential routes home mentally exhausting, with Sadie’s mind running a mile a minute. Did a certain step need to be struck in order to jump 140 years into the future? Which one was it? Would a particular body part need to make contact with it? A hip? A hand? The head?

Scarlett could barely remember anything but the sharp pain in her ribs when her body hit the steps.

Then could it have been the waist or lower back? Sadie wondered.

Did she have to fall hard? Could she just lean against the step? Did she need someone else to play a role in it, like when someone frightens you out of hiccoughs? It never seemed to work if you tried to scare yourself. Did she need to travel the entire flight of stairs or did she only need to make contact with one step?

What about the time of day? That detail didn’t seem to matter. Sadie had tripped up the step in the morning and Scarlett tripped up the step in the evening; both ended up at the same place. Though all the additional cosmic factors were too numerous to comprehend.

And what about the second body? Scarlett was whole again. Did that mean that both bodies needed to be in the exact same place at the exact same time to fuse together again? If that were true, the only time Sadie could be fairly certain that her bodies would meet would be when she was following visitors down the staircase at the conclusion of one of her regular tours. The only problem might be rolling down the stairs like a bowling ball, striking each guest on the way down. Scarlett did not have the answers, but that didn’t keep Sadie from speculating…or conjuring up the most amusing images.

“You ask too many questions,” Scarlett often complained.

“You don’t ask enough,” Sadie would reply.

 

Throughout the days of preparation for Brianne Hall’s visit, Sadie had yet to be discovered by anyone, including Prissy, unless one counted Tom, the short-tempered and long-in-the-tooth, honey-colored cat, or Blackbeard, the newest member of the family. Felines had a way of sniffing out foreign beings. Tom often hid in Scarlett’s bedroom because she ignored him, unlike the grabby children of the house, and the children, in turn, rarely, if ever, set foot in this bedroom. Tom liked to be ignored. Sadie had learned her lesson years ago to let the creatures come to her, not the other way around, so Tom appreciated her cat manners and even went so far as to rub against her leg and arm affectionately. And then there was the rambunctious Blackbeard, who would stealthily sneak away from Bonnie’s grasp whenever he could because there were times when the kitten thought Bonnie would literally squeeze him to death. Sadie fell in love the instant she saw the little ball of fur and they made good friends in the back of Scarlett’s closet. Though, when Scarlett returned home to find Sadie dragging a feather along the closet floor for Blackbeard to pounce, she had to put her foot down. It was a surefire way for a servant to discover her, though Scarlett didn’t know of a solution for the cats. If she closed the closet door, they surely would camp outside of it, drawing the attention of anyone nearby. Could there be a mouse they were trying to reach? It would have to be investigated, and Sadie would be exposed. No, Sadie would have to ignore the inquisitive creatures and eventually they would grow bored with her and depart for more interesting adventures.

Sadie was growing bored, too, as it was taking longer than Scarlett had hoped to get everything prepared for Brianne Hall’s visit. After another examination of her phone, Sadie decided contact with 2011 was hopeless. In order to take away the temptation and reduce Sadie’s frustration, Scarlett placed the object up in the hatbox with her modern collection of MP3 player, batteries, photograph, and underwear. Sadie could check again in a few days to see if any information had reached her. But, now, she had even less to do while holed up in a dark corner for hours at a time. She explained that it was beginning to feel like she had arrived at Walley World only to discover that it had been closed for cleaning and repairs. There was an amazing, historic world out there–steps away–and Scarlett wouldn’t even let Sadie glance out a window during the daylight hours or catch a view of the Butler family.

The frocks were coming along, though Scarlett was certain she’d raised suspicions in the creation of them. Of course, she’d told her dressmaker that the items were not for her, but a relative in need. You see, a cousin of hers was coming for a visit, but this cousin had lost a trunk on her journey down from Chicago and only had her traveling dress and one other. It hadn’t mattered so much while she was staying with her grandfather, but Brianne had expressed slight discomfort about coming to Atlanta to meet new family members with only two dresses to her name. Scarlett whispered that these dresses were to be a surprise for her cousin and she asked for discretion from her dressmaker. The entire town did not need to know of Brianne Hall’s recent hardship. How Scarlett had known her cousin’s exact measurements remained an unquestioned mystery; the dressmaker didn’t want to risk alienating one of her best customers with her suspicions.

Scarlett could easily obtain the essentials from her own store’s supply, including a trunk that Sadie would borrow for appearances. Scarlett had already set one aside in the stock room where it wouldn’t be bothered and she was secretly filling it as she obtained the necessities. She still needed to acquire a nightgown and undergarments, though Sadie said she usually did not wear a nightgown and would have preferred to continue wearing her own underwear…but when in Rome… And Scarlett’s milliner would create a few bonnets. It wasn’t necessary to inform her that they weren’t for Scarlett–although the milliner suspected as much since the bonnets were far less pretentious–or expensive–than anything Mrs. Butler would have helped design for herself.

As for jewelry, Sadie’s limited set wasn’t quite the fashion of 1871, but it would do. Today, jewelry was large, ornate, and colorful. Sadie had been wearing larger gold drop earrings that looked as if they had started out as a thin, malleable loop that had been stretched and twisted lengthwise, creating a near optical illusion. They might have been a little longer than was the fashion, but Scarlett thought they looked nice when Sadie’s hair was loosely pulled back to the nape of her neck. On Sadie’s right hand, she wore a delicate garnet ring with six small stones across the band including a seventh and eighth jutting out above and below the center; if you looked at it at an angle, it appeared as if it were a cross lying on its side. That would have to do as Brianne’s wedding ring. Scarlett wasn’t prepared to purchase jewelry for her short-term guest, and anyway, purchasing jewelry was Rhett’s job. It appeared that his other job was to cause her anxiety…and confusion. Brianne’s appearance couldn’t come soon enough.

 

On Sadie’s fourth day, Scarlett had come home early, well before dinner, to spend an additional hour or two with her guest as she had been doing since Sadie had arrived, allowing her to stretch her legs as much as possible. As always, Scarlett went to close and lock the door to the passage to Rhett’s room after locking her hall door. Her eyes were focused on the doorknob as she quietly swung the door shut, but suddenly something prevented her from closing it fully. As she directed her attention to the crack in the door, she found Rhett’s curious eyes staring back at her. She released the door immediately and the crack widened.

“Great balls of fire, Rhett!” Scarlett exclaimed after again finding her breath, her hand locked to her chest in surprise at meeting Rhett at this hour. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m still a resident of this establishment, am I not?” he asked with mock confusion.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Why aren’t you at the bank?”

“I had every intention of fulfilling each minute of my grueling schedule today–”

“Bankers’ hours,” Scarlett quipped dismissively. What did Rhett know about grueling work? His professional position was only a diversion for him.

Rhett’s amusement grew.

“But as I approached the bank, I noticed Mrs. Guinan waiting outside for it to open. Well, of course, you know she wouldn’t be doing any sort of business with me after my history with her unquestionably _courageous_ son, but I wasn’t in the right temperament to endure her wrathful stare burning into me even for the short amount of time it would take for her to complete her transaction. She’s one of the few people in this town that I haven’t won over with my reformed politics; and I don’t expect to. I had no set meetings, so I decided I’d much prefer to spend the morning with my daughter.”

Rhett then stepped past Scarlett, casually sauntering into her bedroom without waiting for an invitation and scanned the tranquil space.

“What are–? I didn’t–” Scarlett stuttered, stunned by his daring. Her head rotated first left, then right, as if searching for a witness to Rhett’s audacious action so she could point to him and say, “Can you believe this man?” Now, what was he up to? “Dear God, he’d better not be interested in prying into my closet again,” she thought before finding her voice, hoping to stop Rhett’s movement as he approached the foot of the bed. “Then, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong room.”

“Hmm?” he asked as he slipped his hands into his pockets, finally returning his attention to her after seeming to have been lost in a thought.

“Do I look like Bonnie?” Scarlett snapped.

“Yes, very much so.”

Rhett smiled.

Scarlett sighed, dropping her hand from her hip.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, if you’re here to spend the morning with Bonnie then you’d have better luck finding her in the playroom.”

“Oh, I’ve just come from there. Bonnie and Ella are having a tea party. After serving me a rather flavorless cup of air, Bonnie wondered if I might like to invite Mother to the gathering. Well, I wasn’t about to spend the rest of the morning seeking you out as you bounced from mill to store to mill to lumberyard, and I said so.”

Scarlett’s brow furrowed. Rhett knew she’d been at the store all morning. He had expected a daily itinerary from her ever since her fainting spell at the mill and she had complied, within reason.

“But, much to my surprise, Ella told me you’ve been home part of every morning this week.”

“The little chatterbox!” thought Scarlett. Of course Rhett would find this news highly interesting. Why would Scarlett be wasting time at home when she normally would have been out formulating new ways to make a dollar or flirting her way to gaining a new customer? When she caught sight of Tom slinking behind Rhett and slipping into the closet, probably annoyed by the conversation taking place in this room, Scarlett had to use every ounce of energy to hold herself stable; she couldn’t tip Rhett off to her anxiety about the third person in the room or the cat that might lead him to her.

“I think I’ll accept Bonnie’s invitation,” said Scarlett coolly, hoping to direct them both to the playroom and as far away as possible from the closet, Sadie Grier, and a potentially purring cat.

“I thought you wanted to be alone?” Rhett commented as Scarlett turned to make her exit.

“Now, _why_ would you think that?” she asked sarcastically, stopping with her back to him, annoyed by his question. If he knew she wanted to be alone, then why did he barge into her room like this?

“Ella said you’ve been spending the hours before dinner locked in your bedroom, not to be disturbed. I suppose Bonnie thought that _I_ might be able to convince you to come out of your sanctuary, for she doesn’t know any better. But better that I receive the scolding rather than she or Ella, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t have scolded them for–” Scarlett began as she swung around to face Rhett once more, but stopped when she saw the sharp confidence in Rhett’s eyes. Yes, she had to admit it; Rhett was right and he knew he was right. She would have scolded either girl for attempting to disturb her as she tried to conceal Sadie.

“So, what has you so occupied in here, Scarlett?” Rhett asked, again scanning the space, his hands tucked in his pockets. “What could it be that draws you to this room? Have you suddenly taken up handiwork and you’re secretly creating and concealing particular gifts for the children? No… That couldn’t be it.” Rhett’s eyes rested on her blank, miraculously innocent face for a moment. “Perhaps it’s something for me that keeps you locked inside this room; something that might take countless hours to construct? Is it a quilt you’re crafting for my birthday? It isn’t until August, but I suppose with your limited time, you wanted to get started on it. Where are you hiding it? Under the bed?”

Oh, he was having fun with this! Scarlett fumed as Rhett barely leaned forward, pretending to take a peek. Her emotions were quickly rising to the surface in the form of blazing eyes and freckles.

“I apologize. I’ve spoiled the surprise, haven’t I? I’ve been too eager to solve this burgeoning mystery.”

“You know I don’t waste my time making quilts. Even if I did, why in Heaven’s name would I make one for you? There’s no mystery to solve, so you might as well go back to your tea party.”

“So you can lock yourself in again, like you were about to do when I met you at the door?

Scarlett again sighed, drained by the conversation. Rhett’s black, determined eyes told her everything; he wasn’t going to let it go. But why did he need to play these teasing games?

“Why don’t you stop your joking and be forthright? Ask me what you want to know and then leave me alone. Your manners are so tiresome,” said Scarlett with resignation.

She grudgingly moved to the sitting area near the fireplace, a space furthest from the closet, plopping herself down on the center of the settee. Her feet were sore, having spent almost the entire morning on her feet at the store. If Rhett wanted to force this conversation, she’d rather have it without half of her mind concerned with her stiff new shoes.

Rhett casually followed, finding a seat on a chair next to the settee. It seemed he needed to ease his way toward Scarlett’s request.

“Are the businesses doing so well that you’re no longer needed? That really is the goal of all businessmen: to lounge all day long and still reap the benefits of their enterprises.”

“You mean, like you?” she responded haughtily, flashing her eyes in his direction. She had to admit that it did sound nice: no work and all play. But, no, she couldn’t honestly see herself giving up these consistent sources of income. As much as she’d like to loll about and eat bonbons, she could so clearly imagine her stacks of money growing shorter and shorter with each passing day that she knew it would be impossible. And if Rhett gave all his money to the Democrats, well… Eventually, the money would run out, and then what would happen to them all? No, she would never have enough to feel secure until her dying day. And that meant she had to work. Her fate must rest on her shoulders, not on those of her potentially incompetent managers…or her husband.

“Yes, I suppose I was afforded that luxury for a time,” Rhett answered. “I had a damn good run of it for several years.”

“But not now?” Scarlett asked, struggling to lean forward in order to loosen her shoelaces. “Because you’ve taken a position at the bank?” she squeaked out before her tight corset blocked her airflow, forcing her to withdraw from her intended destination.

Scarlett had soon figured out ways of sneaking food up to Sadie, often by visiting the kitchen after their meals to praise the cook and express how tasty some of the dishes had been. They were just so good that she thought she might like to take a plate with her–up the back stairs–containing a smaller second helping. Scarlett hadn’t wanted her guest to eat alone, so she regularly took an extra dessert or a biscuit with her to snack on during Sadie’s meal. The effect of the last few days of increased food intake had revealed itself via her corset.

The mistress of the house would have been fuming had she learned that her servants had briefly placed wagers on whether she was again eating for two, since Scarlett seemed to be requesting double helpings for breakfast through supper. Though, Prissy was there to quell that rumor through her very intimate knowledge of Scarlett’s cycle. And everyone knew that Miss Scarlett and Captain Butler hadn’t shared a bed in years…well, there was that one time… But, Prissy was certain that there was no chance of Scarlett being pregnant now, despite their mistress’s increased appetite.

As Scarlett drew air back into her lungs, she decided that she had taken an impractical position in her attempt to remove her shoes. It would have been nice to revisit her time in 2011, when she could freely bend into any pose at any time of the day to untie her sneakers–which were more comfortable than the stiff, unventilated shoes of today.

“Permit me,” said Rhett as he swiftly took a seat on the edge of the table in front of her after sliding a small bowl of apples to the side.

Scarlett was too eager to be rid of her shoes and did not refuse the offer. She leaned back into the cushion, resting her foot in his hands, grateful for Rhett’s courteous action.

“To answer your question,” Rhett began as he removed the knot from the laces, “yes, my life has changed. I lost some of the freedom I once possessed when I assumed my domestic duties. Marriage and children would alter almost any man’s life. Some might say for the better…and some,” he paused for effect, “might say for the worse,” he concluded in jest, hinting that he personally fell into the latter category.

“Oh, then I suppose I’m to blame for your disappointment,” Scarlett responded with sarcasm. “You still wish you could travel the world, never to root yourself anywhere, and I’ve taken that away from you. But don’t forget who proposed to whom.”

Rhett chuckled briefly before he resumed loosening her laces.

“No. No, unfortunately, I haven’t forgotten.” There was slight bitterness hidden in his comic reply. “But, I’m not very disappointed. Family and responsibility have replaced my boundless freedom, and I think it’s been a fair exchange–for the most part,” he added, glancing at Scarlett briefly as his hand braced against her calf; his fingers sliding down to her ankle as he began releasing the shoe from her foot. “Bonnie’s worth more than all the freedom in the world.”

As Scarlett stared at Rhett’s bowed head, it seemed as if she had never heard anything more sincere from him. Somehow, she felt that he should have included her in that sentiment, too. It may not have been genuinely honest, but at least it would have been appropriate, and she was strangely disappointed by not hearing her name.

After Rhett set the first shoe on the floor, Scarlett pulled her leg back only to discover that he had raised a finger that inevitably grazed across the bottom of her foot, creating a sensation through her stocking that made her think of the first time he had tickled her bare feet, though this time the feeling–which truly had begun to simmer when he first touched her–darted up her leg and stopped, well…somewhere indecent, causing her to immediately draw in a breath and sit upright. An amused Rhett pulled her other foot up to him, clearly noting a fresh resistance, and smiled at the picture Scarlett was making, from her newly alert eyes down to her lower lip wedged between her teeth. He always seemed to know how to catch her unguarded, Scarlett cursed. Well, she was guarded now. Before he had a chance to execute the same trick again, Scarlett quickly lifted her left foot high above his hands in order to retrieve it.

“Thank you, Rhett. That was very kind of you,” she said with sincerity, finding a steady voice even as she nervously stared at the man sitting directly in front of her.

“Sore feet?”

Scarlett nodded and curled her toes downward in a stretch. “New shoes.”

Her mind then flashed to Sadie. Scarlett hadn’t even thought about acquiring appropriate shoes for her guest. Maybe Sadie could pass with her own pair of boots. When hidden under a skirt, no one would see that they climbed all the way up to her knees, though, when she sat… No, they wouldn’t do. Scarlett mentally added shoes to her ever-growing shopping list.

“You seem distracted.”

“Hmm?”

“You seem distracted,” Rhett repeated.

“Oh. No… Not really. I just remembered something that I forgot to purchase.”

Rhett exhaled through a smile. “Shopping: how is it that I forget from time to time that the subject is always on your mind?”

He folded his hands and slowly leaned forward, his knuckles pressing into the fabric of Scarlett’s skirt at her knees. His eyes studied her green irises, her pink cheeks, even her lips for a brief moment. The faint contact surprisingly calmed Scarlett and made her forget for a moment about Sadie or why Rhett was even here.

“What is it that you wanted to ask me?” Scarlett asked quietly, not breaking their eye contact.

Rhett smiled kindly, his eyes soft.

“Why so much seclusion, my dear?” he soothingly asked. “Why are you locking yourself in your room each morning? I’ve noticed that you’ve been holed up in here before and after supper, too. Have you been feeling ill?”

“Ill? No,” she replied immediately with a shake of the head.

“No,” Rhett repeated in agreement. “You look well. Your skin is like a soft pink rose. Your eyes, two pale peridot gemstones, full of sparkle.”

Scarlett dimpled at his agreeable descriptions.

“At least you didn’t say they were like goldfish bowls again,” Scarlett remembered. “I like this better.”

“Now, when did I–? Ah, yes, the first time I held you in my arms–our first waltz. Pleasant evening, wasn’t it?”

Scarlett subtly lifted and dropped her shoulders timidly in answer and slid further back on the cushion, his silky voice and their shared memories causing her to grow nervous and shy. Life had been pleasant for them at times. She’d nearly forgotten that, and somehow, remembering it placed her on unstable ground. She’d grown accustomed to Rhett in the role of nemesis, not dear old friend.

“What have you been doing locked up in here, Scarlett? Sleeping?”

There was laughter in his eyes. His guess had not been serious, but Scarlett realized that it made perfect sense. What better reason was there for anyone to lock themselves in their bedroom if not for uninterrupted sleep? Rhett had just given her the answer to his own question. She would just tell him that she had been suffering from insomnia and was trying to make up for it during the day to avoid another incident like the one that had occurred in early October.

Scarlett looked down briefly. “Actually, I have been resting,” she confirmed.

Scarlett raised her eyes to meet Rhett’s and continued, “I haven’t been getting much sleep at night. I…” but she couldn’t seem to go on. It felt wrong to lie to his face when there had been true pleasantness between them lately. Funny how guilt hadn’t bothered Scarlett in the past when she’d had a goal in mind, such as getting property tax money from him. Uncertainty left her mute, her struggles written in her expression. What Rhett surely read in her eyes was that he had finally cracked through her defensive wall and had reached the truth. That was not the reality, but he did not seem to suspect another scenario. Scarlett bowed her head, noting Rhett’s right hand sliding to and scooping up her left hand.

“Your nightmares,” he voiced in a hushed tone. “They’re still haunting you.” There, the perfect answer; now she didn’t have to say anything further. “I told you to leave the door open–” he nearly scolded after a lengthy silence.

“I know,” Scarlett answered, continuing to stare down at her warmly enveloped hand, sensing the concern in both Rhett’s words and touch. Surprisingly, her guilt slowly began to fall away for leading Rhett down this path. Her story was based in truth. Lately, she hadn’t been sleeping as many hours at night since the time Sadie had become her roommate. And her nightmares had not completely disappeared. In fact, the night before last, she’d faced one that had brought the circumstances surrounding her accident to the forefront again. Whether or not Sadie’s presence had anything to do with it, Scarlett had dreamt of her arrival to 2011 and woke whispering Rhett’s name through tears, echoing her calls for him when she lay helpless at the bottom of the staircase. But he had never come to her rescue…and yet, in this parallel universe, he had.

Scarlett’s quiet weeping brought Sadie to consciousness. Immediately bolting up, she attempted to determine what was wrong and quiet Scarlett. Scarlett lifted herself and wrapped her arms around her new friend, drawn to any source of human warmth, whispering the details of her dream over Sadie’s shoulder. Sadie’s awkwardness had thankfully gone unnoticed, though she was always ill at ease with her limited maternal instincts in situations like this. At one moment, she had even made a desperate attempt to disentangle herself and climb out of bed to retrieve Rhett, knowing he could comfort Scarlett better than she could. But in that moment, Scarlett regained her senses. No, Rhett could never, ever discover Sadie’s presence in this way. They were too close to introducing Brianne Hall. Reality quickly settled Scarlett’s woe and she pulled away, embarrassed about throwing herself on Sadie in this manner.

“I thought I’d heard something the night before last. You were awake?” Rhett asked.

Scarlett nodded, “Yes,” and watched Rhett’s thumb drag back and forth across the back of her hand, once circling over the place where her wedding ring had once been seated.

“Why don’t you call for me? You know I would–”

“Oh, Rhett, what can you do?” Scarlett sighed as she looked up, only to find his head bowed. “You can’t take away what’s in my mind. But it’s getting better,” she stressed, sensing his disappointment. Surely, he was concerned with how her struggles would affect Bonnie. If she continued on this path, the whole town would soon know of Scarlett’s inability to overcome her weakness and get on with life. And then she would hear the whispers: ‘Poor Captain Butler, having such a wife. Poor Bonnie Butler, having such a mother.’

“It is getting better, Rhett,” Scarlett emphasized with a squeeze to his hand. “It doesn’t happen as often anymore. With rest and time–”

“It’s still your old dream?” he asked, lifting his head. Time stood still as Scarlett gazed off into the distance, recalling the recent events that still haunted her when unconscious.

“No,” Scarlett answered cautiously. While she maintained a steady voice, she couldn’t prevent the moisture from pooling in her eyes. She had not been able to turn away and mask the truth this time. While it went unspoken, through her very simple answer, through her diverted eyes and voice, aggrieved and forlorn, Rhett finally understood the true nature of her newest nightmares. Recent memories. Fresh wounds. Long-standing divisions. It was no wonder that she didn’t call for him at night when he was the sole cause of her current struggles.

Rhett withdrew his hand and rose to his feet, pacing in the direction of the closet. Scarlett held her breath and thanked God when Rhett turned back and walked toward the settee again. His entire being exposed his frustration. He seemed lost. He seemed unwell. He nearly paused to speak before turning and moving in the opposite direction again. Scarlett thought she heard Rhett helplessly whisper something when his back was to her, as if directed to some unseen being. Again he returned.

 “You know you’re safe–” Rhett began earnestly, before cutting himself off as if he knew he was speaking a falsehood. When was she ever safe around him? How could she ever believe that she was safe in this house after everything that she’d been through? He looked behind her as if something had caught his eye, though when Scarlett turned her head, she did not see anything of note and returned her eyes to him.

What distracted him momentarily was a flash of light that shone from the top of Scarlett’s open jewelry box. The source: the diamond of her engagement ring. Surely that was now its permanent home. Why would Scarlett ever feel comfortable wearing it again when the man who had given it to her had nearly killed her?

What Rhett didn’t know was that Scarlett had tried on her rings this morning, considering their return to her fingers. Scarlett’s relationship with Rhett had been rather friendly as of late, making it seem possible that she would once again wear her rings. But the time hadn’t seemed quite right yet. Scarlett still hadn’t fully forgiven Rhett for his trick regarding the mills and she meant for him to know it–at least for a little while longer.

“I’m a cad,” Rhett said so quietly that Scarlett was absolutely certain that she’d misheard him. “It was thoughtlessness of me to intrude on your precious time to rest. You’re right, Scarlett. I’ve never been able to do anything to change your mind. There’s nothing I can do to make this better,” he said, as if he’d come to a resolution. There was finality in his words. Rhett looked down at her, his expression blank, swallowing anything further that he had planned to say.

While Scarlett was relieved to see that he was concluding his investigation, why did she feel a dreadful sadness replacing the oxygen in the room? The suffocating atmosphere left her speechless.

Rhett stepped behind the settee and walked toward his room, but paused at the door. Scarlett turned her head.

“I’ll make sure the girls don’t disturb you. Get some rest, Scarlett,” Rhett encouraged before disappearing into the passageway and pulling the door shut.

At the click of the latch, Scarlett shot up from the cushion, planting her stocking feet next to her shoes and spoke to the sealed doorway, her voice echoing in the empty room, “But, Rhett…?” Why did he leave? Why had he seemed so somber and defeated? Had she said or done something to cause this instant change in him? It was as if he’d given up even trying to do…well…whatever it was he was always trying to do. Scarlett felt strangely empty.

She stared at the door for a good thirty seconds before remembering Sadie and hurried over to turn the lock and did the same to the bathing room hall door before meeting Sadie in the closet, finding Tom curled up beside her hip.

“He’s gone now,” Scarlett whispered, causing Tom to yawn, stretch in multiple directions, and then flee the scene.

Sadie slipped out of her hiding space appearing somewhat subdued.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Scarlett apologized, taking Sadie’s hands in order to assist her to her feet.

“My first real introduction to you as a couple…” Sadie began distantly as she rose from the floor.

So, she had heard the conversation, Scarlett thought, certain that it hadn’t done either she or Rhett any favors in Sadie’s eyes.

“For a while, I thought– For a while, it seemed like you didn’t even like him.”

“Oh,” Scarlett sighed, bowing her head in thought. Why was it that even when Rhett didn’t know that he had an audience, he still managed to make her look bad, intentionally or not? Without much time to evaluate what had just transpired between the two of them, Scarlett was almost certain that Rhett had come across as cheerful, kind, and concerned, while she must have seemed like a biting and bitter woman with no love for the man, whatsoever. Well, she didn’t love him, but the fondness was still there a fair amount of the time. Unfortunately, Sadie was only able to witness the smallest portion of that sentiment. No, Scarlett didn’t always like Rhett very much, but she wasn’t about to let anyone from the twenty-first century know it.

“Is that the real reason why you’re not wearing your wedding and engagement rings? Is that why it doesn’t seem to be a problem that you’re occupying separate rooms?”

“Damn it!” thought Scarlett. Of course no good had come from allowing Sadie to explore her jewelry collection on Wednesday. Sadie had noticed almost immediately that the wedding and engagement rings were placed in an open velvet compartment. Scarlett had been able to smooth over the original question about her rings, claiming that she didn’t always wear them or find them comfortable during her days at the store or lumberyard. The answer had seemed to pass muster because Sadie agreed that she rarely wore her rings at the salon. But now, Sadie might logically be putting two and two together. Her answer had been the correct four, but Scarlett wasn’t about to give her credit for it.

Scarlett laughed as if she were extremely diverted.

“No, of course, not. I think this isolation is catching up with you. You’re imagining all sorts of absurd scenarios. It’s all so silly. Of course I like Rhett. I guess that’s just how we are, sometimes,” Scarlett reasoned. “I had no idea he’d surprise me like that. I was worried he might find you. My nerves were terribly strained. That’s probably why I sounded like that.”

Sadie eyed her with suspicion, gauging whether Scarlett was speaking the truth or not, but thankfully left the subject alone for now. She nodded before stepping past Scarlett and out into the light.

“We’re nearly there,” Scarlett encouraged as she followed Sadie, sensing her visitor’s growing gloominess. “Just a few more days.”

 

After Sadie used the water closet, Scarlett stepped into the bathing room and splashed some cool water on her face. She studied herself in the mirror, wondering if she had suddenly turned ugly. She’d felt Rhett pull away and she had wondered if that might have been the cause. It was a strange morning, but she hoped all would be back to normal once she and Sadie could stop hiding out in this room. Rhett was just confused by her changes of habit. Perhaps she would return the rings to her fingers and kill two birds with one stone: Sadie would see that Scarlett liked her husband and her husband would see that his wife liked him.

Once Brianne Hall arrived, Scarlett would be back to normal and Rhett would see that she was much better, much more herself. And then, he could be himself with her again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to post again. Where is the time to write? I don't think there are any warnings for this chapter. It's the "arrival" of Sadie :)

Part Two

 

Chapter 21

 

“Why do you look like a cute little pickle, and I just look matronly?” Sadie observed, her rosebud mouth curving into a sour frown.

“A cute little pickle?”

“Or is it a _spicy_ little pickle? Either way… It’s something a guy I had a blind date with called petite, sexy women. I never saw him again–interestingly, he never called _me_ that,” Sadie said, comically widening her eyes. “But you’re, like, hot in this clothing, while I look like a schoolmarm.”

“A governess at the very least,” Scarlett teased.

“Just call me Jane Eyre.”

 

The day had finally arrived. Sadie was fully dressed in Victorian attire, including a corset that she refused to have pulled excessively tight, nearly leaving her with her original twenty-six-inch waist. Sadie refused to have her organs unhealthily squashed together; she said she would very much like to return home with her lungs, kidneys, stomach, liver, and intestines still functional. Though, she praised Scarlett for not going to such extremes as Empress Elisabeth of Austria. Sadie had once seen several of Elisabeth’s gowns on display showcasing her famous sixteen-inch waist. In Sadie’s opinion, it had looked quite unnatural.

Scarlett decided not to inform her that her waist had once been nearly that small before her last two children came along, concealing her great pride in that long-gone feature.

Luckily, the dark sapphire-colored bodice fit in spite of Sadie’s corset demands. While the gown wasn’t anything elaborate, subtle ivory lace decorated the modest collar and the sleeves at the wrist. Scarlett thought Sadie looked very nice and was proud that she chose a perfect fabric to set off Sadie’s dark chestnut hair. But she wasn’t about to allow for Sadie’s clothing to compete with her own. Brianne Hall was the wife of a musician and teacher and therefore, she would probably not have the funds to dress extravagantly.

Despite Sadie’s personal desire for authenticity in her wardrobe, there was one modern article that she reluctantly refused to give up: her eyeglasses. She knew the risk of wearing them. Everyone would notice this oddity–a cellulose acetate tortoise shell frame fit for Tina Fey–far from the round, wiry-metal frames of this era. But, without them, she would suffer a terrible vulnerability. Because of her severe myopia, the glasses were not just an aid, they were a lifeline. The thought of being without them terrified her. Scarlett offered to bring Sadie out, once she had arrived as Brianne, to choose a pair of spectacles that would help her see, but Sadie refused, claiming the lenses of this era would have to be as thick as the bottom of Coke bottles. Luckily, there were no external brand markings on the temples and the frames were small. They were as simple and understated as twenty-first century glasses could be. Hopefully, if questioned about them, she could convince the interrogator that the frames were in fact a current fashion, possibly in some far-off place, like Iceland, where no one else had likely ever been…not that she was sure why Brianne would have visited that island either.

           

“Well, it’s about that time,” Sadie spoke to her reflection in the full-length mirror, before enthusiastically twisting from side to side to make a final check on her appearance, clearly amused by the bustle, which she said distorted rather than accentuated her best asset. She smoothed the wide navy ribbons that hung down from her bonnet across her curls on the back of her head and straightened the part that encroached on her forehead, masking her widow’s peak. “Do I look passable as a nineteenth century Chicagoan and O’Hara descendant?”

Scarlett looked into the mirror and examined the two of them, side-by-side.

“Can we pull this off?” Sadie continued. “We don’t look much alike…though, I don’t look much like my fairer-colored, blue-eyed sister either, so…”

“It’ll be all right,” Scarlett determined positively. “I’m sure no one expects us to look like twins. And, yes,” she said, turning her attention to the real Sadie and not her reflection, “if I saw you on the street, I would not think you any different from any other woman I know…as long as you remember the manners I taught you. I think I’ve done quite a nice job with you.”

Sadie giggled at Scarlett’s self-praise.

“Nervous?” Scarlett asked.

Sadie turned her head to meet Scarlett’s eyes.

“Terrified.”

“Me, too.”

“But…it’s going to be great,” Sadie said attempting to still her shaky hands against her skirt and build her confidence. “I’ll never have this opportunity again. It’s the most exciting thing I’ll ever experience in my life. I always loved playing dress-up; I’ve reached the pinnacle of that today. And now I’m playing a lady, and not a prostitute,” she grinned, reminding Scarlett of the old photograph of her prepubescent self in the saloon girl’s costume. “And, I’m finally free,” Sadie sighed with relief. “No more closets for me, thank you very much. We’re both free, actually. Thank goodness we won’t have to whisper to each other anymore or tiptoe around this room.”

Scarlett nodded in agreement, and smiled, releasing some of the tension that had built up inside her. This was going to be a huge risk. Hopefully, they would only receive rewards for their effort and they would find Sadie’s passage home without difficulty.

“Everything’s set,” Scarlett announced.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Sadie said, only half-jokingly. Freedom was nice, but there was something to be said for security, too. And once she left this room, nothing was certain. It was frightening to be released from Scarlett’s tether out to an unfamiliar land. Once separated, there would be no instant communication. This was the age of the telegraph, not the mobile phone. After drawing in a deep breath, Sadie closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, centering herself for what was to come. She turned and reached for Scarlett’s hands. With a squeeze, she said, “All right. Let’s do this,” concluding with a spirited nod, sharing her strength with Scarlett as if they were preparing for battle.

“It’s your first step toward home.” Scarlett squeezed back.

“Yes, it is.”

           

The plan was all set. Scarlett was to sneak Sadie down the servant staircase and out on the north side of the house. Thankfully, Rhett was at the bank and he had a late meeting today, Wade was at school for about another hour, and Prissy and Mammy were occupied with putting the girls down for a nap. Scarlett was keeping Pork busy in the reception room rearranging some furniture with the housemaid assisting, and Scarlett had made sure that no one would be tending to the yard or stables this afternoon; her coachman was to arrive in about thirty minutes. Cookie and her young assistant would be the only servants in the house that Scarlett might need to distract should they be in the hallway near the storage rooms…but it turned out that all was clear and Sadie escaped the house without any obstacles.

Scarlett had given Sadie instructions on how to reach her destination–the crossroads of Ellis and Calhoun. The further away from Peachtree Street that she went, the less likely she would be noticed or remembered. And, luckily the day had been dreary; the residential sidewalks certainly would be sparsely populated. It should be an easy two-and-a-half blocks for the regular walker, though she was only now getting accustomed to the stiff leather shoes. At the destination, Sadie was to be picked up by a cab that already had her luggage in tow. The driver would take Sadie to Atlanta Union Station and leave her at the depot as if she was to travel away from the city that day. Scarlett had anonymously hired the cab and provided the driver with half his wages when he picked up the luggage the day before, using her stock boy to make the transaction. The driver was told that the passenger, a Sadie Grier, would provide the other half when she was safely delivered to the train station. At around three o’clock, Scarlett would arrive at the depot to collect Sadie, reborn as Brianne Hall.

From the edge of her property, Scarlett watched Sadie walk down the breezy and damp, leaf-strewn Ellis. She could imagine how wide her visitor’s eyes must have been as she scanned a bygone Atlanta, surely forgetting to breathe in her awe. Scarlett wanted to shout out to her and request that she not appear so animated, but it was too late now; she was too far away. However, as if Sadie had read Scarlett’s mind, she righted herself and squared her shoulders, tugging at her fitted wool traveling coat and lowering the black umbrella to keep herself dry–and mask her identity. She continued her journey down the path in the light drizzle with purpose; her carpetbag held tightly against her right side, her eyes focused only on the sidewalk before her as if nothing else interested her. When she reached Calhoun, the cab was already in position: her trunk secured to the back, the driver waiting beside the carriage.

“This appears to be my mine,” Sadie lied, pointing to the trunk–it had been the first time she’d ever seen it. “You’re waiting for Sadie Grier?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, that’s me,” she said, tipping up her umbrella to reveal an enthusiastic grin.

 

*              *              *

 

Atlanta Union Station was bustling, as it normally was on a Monday afternoon, making it the perfect day to introduce a new character to 1871 Atlanta. Even the newcomer’s eyeglasses would go mostly unnoticed on a day such as today with all the rushed comings and goings, which was the main reason why Scarlett chose to delay Sadie’s arrival for a day.

           

It was three-twenty by the time Scarlett arrived at the depot. She knew that the train from Savannah would be arriving at three, but she also knew that Sadie would not be alighting from that train, or any train for that matter. That meant she and her coachman had to be late, and she delayed them by delaying herself. Once catching a view of the rearranged furniture, which she had never intended on repositioning, she requested that Pork put everything back as it had been while she monitored the progress, claiming everything had to be just right before her cousin’s arrival. Scarlett felt a little guilty for putting Pork to all the extra work and promised to grant him some free time the following Saturday for today’s efforts. Now, she only hoped that the Savannah train had already arrived.

Her coachman followed Scarlett into the waiting area of the depot and she acted her part, peering here and glancing there to spot her distant, unfamiliar cousin–though she had spotted Sadie out of the corner of her eye almost from the moment she breezed into the room. “Thank God she’d made it this far!” thought Scarlett. Sadie was seated on one of the high-backed wooden benches in a low-traffic corner of the room, her spine as straight as a ramrod as she clutched her closed umbrella, holding it against her lap. Her eyes had been scanning the room in wonder at all the people that would be long dead before her birth, though she regularly glanced to the doors in search of Scarlett, the one person that she could not imagine as a ghost anymore. There clearly was a limit to the suppression of her nerves, and Scarlett could see that they were about to boil over with the way her hands were strangling the umbrella.

Leaning over to a dark-haired woman in her thirties, Scarlett asked the stranger loudly enough for Sadie to hear: “Brianne? Brianne Hall?” She couldn’t very well find Sadie immediately, but she could let her know that she was there.

“No. Sorry,” the stranger answered.

“My apologies,” Scarlett replied, before moving to the next brunette of the right age.

“Brianne Hall?”

“No.”

“Brianne O’Hara Hall?”

“No.”

“Katie Scarlett?” Sadie called, deciding to end the charade when Scarlett was near enough.

Scarlett spun around and stepped over to the bespectacled woman in the corner, her coachman at her heels, and she realized that both she and Sadie were now performing in a play for all of Atlanta to see. Until their relationship was established, they had to act as strangers.

“Brianne O’Hara Hall?”

“Yes!” Sadie answered a little too eagerly, shooting up from the bench, her relief exposed in her reply. “Katie Scarlett O’Hara?”

“Butler,” Scarlett added.

“Yes, of course,” said Sadie.

“It appears that we’ve found one another,” Scarlett said, passing Sadie a charming smile, taking Sadie’s gloved hands in hers and leaning in to greet her cousin with a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to Atlanta, Brianne. And, please call me _Scarlett_. I do apologize for my delay in arrival.”

“No harm was done,” said Sadie, passing over a knowing smile, well aware of the reason for Scarlett’s lateness. “It gave me the opportunity to do some people watching. Though, I was beginning to think that I had given you the wrong arrival date.” Sadie then glanced over Scarlett’s shoulder at the tall man eyeing her trunk, and put out her hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t been introduced. I’m Brianne Hall. And you are…?”

The coachman looked to Scarlett, surprised to be greeted in such a manner. Sadie then expectantly looked to Scarlett, who was equally puzzled by her interest in the servant.

“My apologies. This is our regular coachman, Isaac.”

“It’s good to meet you, Isaac,” Sadie said, continuing to hold out her gloved hand until he smiled and gave it a stealthy shake.

Scarlett stepped to Sadie’s side and linked their arms.

“Let’s get you home.”

Sadie picked up her carpetbag from the bench and watched as Isaac approached her trunk.

“Should I take the opposite handle?” she asked him.“Miss Hall?” he questioned.

“Isaac will take charge of it, Brianne. He’s perfectly capable,” Scarlett interrupted, tugging her _cousin_ away from the scene.

“I just wanted to help,” Sadie whispered.

Scarlett gave her a look that said, ‘leave it alone.’

“The curse of my independence,” Sadie added. “I always need to do everything for myself.”

“Well, not now,” Scarlett whispered back. “Be a lady. You’re not expected to lift a finger. Enjoy being waited on for once. I promise you, I know what a luxury it is. So,” she continued on in a voice that any bystander could hear, “how was your journey from Savannah, Brianne? How are Uncle James and Uncle Andrew and their families?”

“The journey was very swift, indeed. Why, it felt as if it took minutes, not hours,” she joked. “Though, it was difficult for me to say goodbye to Savannah. It’s such a lovely city; too lovely for words. I think I could live amongst the Spanish moss and peaceful squares for the rest of my life. And I’m so thankful for the time with Grandma and Grandpa O’Hara. Grandpa’s doing quite well for his age…”

 

Once inside the carriage, sitting opposite one another, Scarlett and Sadie were able to speak as themselves once more. Sadie immediately apologized to Scarlett about muddying the new shoes that Scarlett had bought for her, making comment on the incredible amount of the muck filling the streets. And she also noted the vast quantity of people and noise in the vicinity, a shock to her system after being locked in solitary for most of the last week. It was almost too much for the self-described introvert. Even in modern Atlanta, with a much larger population, there were not as many people to be found out and about in one space. But despite the mud and congestion, Sadie was discernibly excited to be here. Even the interior of the carriage seemed to fascinate her, her eyes scanning every square inch in less than thirty seconds. When the carriage began to rock across the tracks, Sadie pointed to the southeastern façade of Atlanta Union Station, remarking on the similarity to an entrance at the modern Mall of Georgia, clearly an ode to the long-gone depot. “Everything old is new again,” she said, entranced by the views outside of the carriage, now stripped of the sepia tone that had always tinted those images. “Your store is that way, correct?” she asked, pointing in the direction of their starting point on the opposite side of the tracks.

Scarlett nodded and added, “Not far down on Whitehall.”

“I wish I could see it now,” Sadie said, not drawing her eyes from the window.

“I’ll take you there another day–put you to work so you can earn your keep,” Scarlett added mischievously, testing Sadie’s attention.

The comment went unnoticed.

When the carriage neared the six-story Kimball House, Scarlett explained that this was where her uncle-by-marriage, Henry Hamilton, had taken up residence.

“I’m sure you’ll meet him. He’s Wade’s great uncle.”

“This is Five Points, isn’t it?” said Sadie, more in realization than in question.

Scarlett next highlighted the National Hotel, where she and Rhett had stayed while their house was being built. Sadie held her eyes on the stately structure until it was out of sight. Grinning giddily, she turned her attention to Scarlett and said, “It’s like your first apartment together!” After that, Sadie didn’t have another word to say as they began their journey up North Broad Street. She stared out the windows, her eyes sparkling, quietly oohing and aahing at each building, church, and home that they passed–the landscape, so very different from the Atlanta she knew. The street names may have been the same, but nothing else built of wood, mortar, brick, and stone had lasted into the twenty-first century–except for Scarlett’s home. When the carriage stopped in front of the Butler mansion, Sadie tugged at her gloves, comically exhaling, “Well, here we go, again.”

“Yes,” Scarlett said, her chest tightening with nervousness. It was now time to introduce the newcomer to her family, servants, and home. “Do you still feel like you’re going to be ill?”

“Absolutely,” Sadie answered as the coachman opened the door. “Thank you, Isaac. I do appreciate it,” she said, giving the appearance of calm the moment she was helped from the carriage. Scarlett followed, nearly bumping into Sadie as she stepped down from the carriage block. Sadie was frozen several feet away from the wrought-iron gate, gazing up at the house looming over street as if seeing it for the first time.

“I bet you haven’t seen anything like it before,” Scarlett quietly teased as she took Sadie’s arm.

“No, not quite. It’s so new. So fresh…”

Scarlett noticed a curtain stir in the sitting room and saw a large figure move away from the window.

“Mammy,” she thought. “How am I going to get all this past Mammy?” Well, at least Sadie appeared very much in awe at the sight of the house. Mammy wouldn’t accuse her of having seen it before. “Shall we?” Scarlett spoke, urging them both through the gate and up the walk, both gaining strength from each other. When they took the steps up to the front door, Scarlett asked, “Are you ready?”

Sadie breathed in and out, staring at the familiar front entrance door, and answered, “Yes.”

At that moment, Pork pulled the door open and stepped aside, allowing room for the two women to enter. He reached for Sadie’s umbrella and carpetbag when she took her first step into the vestibule.

“Oh… Thank you.”

“It’s very nice to see you again, Miss Brianne.”

“Again?” Sadie asked nervously, struggling to release the buttons on her coat.

Scarlett looked up to Pork for a moment before recalling where he had met Brianne at an earlier time.

“Oh, you were in Savannah with us when Pa took Suellen and me on that visit!” Scarlett exclaimed, forgetting that someone in this house had in fact met the eleven year-old Brianne O’Hara.

“Yes, Miss Scarlett. Miss Brianne was there wit’ her Pa and her sisters.”

“And she left a good impression on you, I see,” Scarlett commented, noting Pork’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, Miss Scarlett.” Pork then smiled at Sadie and quickly dropped his eyes. “You were a pleasant girl, Miss Brianne. Very kind.”

“Well, it’s good to hear it,” she answered, an unearned blush painting her cheeks. “Now, I have a reputation to uphold. I shall try my best to live up to those standards.” Sadie held her hand out to Pork, smiling, and he took it; she curtseyed with a subtle nod to her head, Pork bowed more formally.

Once Sadie and Scarlett had divested themselves of their coats and gloves, Scarlett pressed her hand to Sadie’s tense upper back, guiding her into the entrance hall. She was pleased that Pork had not made any reference to a change in the appearance of Brianne O’Hara, but she didn’t want to give him more time to observe the woman and change his opinion. Apparently, she had physically matched up Brianne and Sadie quite well, at least well enough not to raise any suspicion from the one person who would know better than anyone else in Atlanta. It had been over twenty years, but Pork’s memory was strong. Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief for getting over this hurdle, a hurdle that she had not anticipated.

Mammy first caught Scarlett’s eye, waiting patiently in front of the staircase next to Sarah, the housemaid, expecting an immediate introduction, but then Scarlett noticed Wade standing off to the side near the reception room door, his curious eyes fixed upon Sadie.

“Wade,” Scarlett spoke, causing Sadie’s attention to first fall on her and then follow Scarlett’s eyes to the little nine-year-old boy. “Wade, come here and greet your cousin, Brianne,” she requested, a little frustrated by Wade’s obvious nervousness. She had prepared him for this moment when she’d informed the children about Brianne’s imminent arrival after dinner that afternoon following Rhett’s departure.

Wade shyly resisted at first, but when a welcoming smile lit Sadie’s face, he urged himself forward, glad that someone seemed pleased to see him. He parked himself close to his mother just in case this cousin wasn’t as friendly as she seemed to be. Scarlett grasped his shoulders in order to rotate him so he would face Sadie head-on. Oh, why was she cursed with such a timid boy?

“Brianne, this is my son, Wade Hampton Hamilton. Wade, this is your cousin, Brianne O’Hara Hall.”

Sadie grinned even wider when looking down at Wade and Scarlett could have sworn that there was a little glimmer in her eyes, probably born of the admiration she had for what Wade had done to preserve this piece of Atlanta history.

“Wade,” Sadie said, offering her hand, patiently waiting until Scarlett lightly jostled Wade’s arm, encouraging him to do the same. When their hands touched, Sadie respectfully curtsied and said, “It is a true honor to meet you, Wade Hamilton. A _true_ honor.”

Wade’s heart swelled at Sadie’s flattering, unquestionably sincere words as if he were some sort of heroic figure. He was unable to hide the redness that flooded his cheeks when he spoke.

“I’m… I’m pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Hall.”

“Oh, Scarlett. He’s so…” Sadie sighed. She then returned her attention back to Wade and said, “You’re a very handsome young man, Wade Hamilton.”

The brown-haired boy detached his hand, unconsciously backing away and bumping into his mother. Instead of springing away, knowing his mother would be annoyed or angry over this action, Wade pressed his burning cheek to Scarlett’s bodice, flattening his head of curls against her. It was too much. He needed her strength to remain standing. Such compliments did not come his way often, and never from such a fine woman other than his Aunt Melly. Now he understood why his Great Aunt Pitty needed her smelling salts.  

Before Scarlett could react unfavorably to Wade’s clinging, a gathering of Prissy, Ella, and Bonnie, crouching down and spying through the balusters from the upper hall, distracted her. She took notice when Bonnie called out, “Cousin!” Then, her youngest began carelessly climbing down the steps; her aim quicker than her feet could carry her, yet miraculously, her arms–her fingers catching in the slats of the banister–kept her upright.

“The stairs,” Scarlett thought, meeting Sadie’s eyes, where she saw equal concern. The stairs! Ever since her accident–and especially since Sadie’s arrival–she’d made certain that someone monitored or accompanied the youngest children on the staircase. Bonnie had only recently learned how to navigate the stairs independently. How could Scarlett ever forgive herself if she allowed what happened to her, to happen to her innocent girls? How could they ever be secure in that new world, even if Dylan and Carolyn or Peggy were able to take them in?

And here, two-year-old Bonnie had snuck past the incompetent Prissy, who was more interested in watching Brianne than she was in monitoring her charge. “Bonnie. Stop!” Scarlett demanded, throwing off Wade’s light grip. “Prissy!” she yelled as she hurried past Mammy and rushed up the steps, her right hand hovering above the banister for insurance. Scarlett caught up to Bonnie at the edge of the landing and scooped her up into her arms, pressing her lips into Bonnie’s black hair with relief.

“You know I don’t want you taking the stairs alone, Baby,” Scarlett spoke into Bonnie’s curls. Then, Scarlett then gave a steely stare to Prissy, who had finally reached the landing. Not wishing for Sadie to witness the reprimand of a servant her first few minutes on the premises, Scarlett spoke in a hushed tone, “Prissy. What were you thinking, allowing Bonnie to attempt this?” She adjusted Bonnie against her hip, the girl’s swift growth obvious to the muscles in Scarlett’s arms. “I entrust them to your care. You know my orders and yet you ignore them and endanger my child’s life. What are you doing out here, anyway? The girls are to be resting.”

“For God, Miss Scarlett, I– The girls so excited ‘bout the new lady, they couldn’ sleep. I said we could sneak a look at her.”

“You mean _you_ wanted to get a look at her,” said Scarlett, astutely. “Well, Bonnie wanted to do more than look. And you know that’s how she is. Ella, come take Mother’s hand,” Scarlett requested, moving toward the upper hall and reaching out to her daughter. Ella complied, and Scarlett turned to take the girls downstairs. Prissy made a move to follow, causing Scarlett to pause and flash a look behind her. “No. You’re not accompanying us. You go fix up the nursery and the playroom…and stay up here and wait for the girls to return,” Scarlett concluded, punishing Prissy by taking away her chance of officially meeting Brianne Hall upon her arrival. On her way down the steps, Scarlett eyed Mammy with nearly equal fury for being more interested in a formal introduction than in the wellness of the children. Scarlett hadn’t thought on the fact that the house had had so few guests since it had been built. A long or short-term visitor was a true novelty and surely would provoke interest, especially from her children, who had been rather isolated from much of their extended family, with the exception of the Hamilton-Wilkes and the O’Hara-Benteens.

“Oh, Scarlett,” Sadie sighed, as mother and daughters slowly approached her. “Adorable. Just adorable…”

“Ella, this is our cousin, Brianne O’Hara Hall. Brianne, this is Ella Lorena Kennedy, my middle child.”

Ella sweetly placed her foot behind her and curtsied.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ella.”

Ella opened her mouth to speak the first of her hundred questions for their guest, but was impeded by her mother’s voice.

“And this is my youngest–” said Scarlett, with a little more pride, again adjusting Bonnie against her hip.

“Eugenie Victoria?” Sadie interrupted, playing the proper level of ignorance.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what my announcement to Uncle James read, but we call her _Bonnie_. Bonnie, this is your cousin, Brianne.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Bonnie Butler,” Sadie continued, her eyes studying the child with care. She held out her hand, waiting for Bonnie to present hers, which she did readily for a brief shake. “I suppose it was a wise choice,” Sadie said to Scarlett. “I assume being named after the former Empress of France and the Queen of England is a lot to live up to. Did you know, Bonnie, that a young Queen Victoria–when she was a princess–always had someone with her when she walked up or down a staircase?”

Bonnie shook her head. Scarlett smiled at Sadie’s attempt to motivate Bonnie to follow the rules.

“Someone always held her hand to keep her safe.”

“Oh,” Bonnie voiced, before looking back to study the tall staircase, her arms loosely wrapping around Scarlett’s neck, perhaps imagining herself as the young princess.

“I was named after Grandma O’Hara,” Ella interjected proudly, tugging at Sadie’s skirt.

“Oh, you were, were you?” Sadie asked with exaggerated interest. “I’ve heard she was a fine lady. I’m sure it was the greatest of honors to be named after her.” She then returned her enthusiastic attention to Scarlett, “Scarlett, they’re darling! What a lovely family you have.”

“Why, she’s just as bad as Melly!” Scarlett thought after hearing such sincere sentiments. “And she told me she doesn’t even like children…at least not enough to want them for herself.” Though, Scarlett found herself holding her head a little higher as a result of the praise for her offspring.

“Can’t you see?” Bonnie asked, pointing to Sadie’s glasses with her free hand. It hadn’t taken long for someone to notice: leave it to a bold child to comment.

“Well, unfortunately, not very well. I can see you much better with the assistance of my spectacles.”

“Why can’t you see?” Ella followed up.

“I’m not sure why. Perhaps I did too much needlework when I was younger.”

“You talk funny,” Bonnie commented. “Where you from?”

“That’s quite enough, Bonnie,” Scarlett stated, apologizing to Sadie with her eyes.

“I’m from Illinois,” Sadie graciously answered.

“Where’s–?”

“Enough, Bonnie,” Scarlett requested.

“Mother. Down,” Bonnie demanded grumpily as she began to wriggle in Scarlett’s arms and Scarlett happily deposited the girl to the carpet; the nearly two-and-a-half year-old was growing heavier by the day. Scarlett glanced behind her. Mammy was still waiting for an introduction, now obviously with less patience, as her exhales were now a series of huffs.

“Brianne, there are a few more people that I need to introduce.” She took Sadie’s arm and guided her around the girls and toward the staircase. “Mammy, may I present Brianne Hall. As you know, she’s the daughter of my cousin, Brian O’Hara, Uncle James’ son. Brianne, this is Mammy. She’s been charged with the care of three generations of Robillards and was my mammy. She’s from Savannah, like your father and my mother.”

“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sadie said as she took Mammy’s hand briefly. “It seems we’re all linked together by Savannah in one way or another. I’m sure you’ve met Grandpa O’Hara. Did you know my father when he was in Savannah?”

“No, Miss Brianne. I don’t ‘member him well, but I knew Mist’ James.” She kindly refrained from informing Brianne that the Robillards and O’Haras had not interacted much. While the O’Haras stood well in Savannah, they would never reach the level of the fine old Robillard family, in Mammy’s opinion. Her eyes assessed Sadie assiduously, seeing if there were any signs of good breeding. She certainly appeared clean, ladylike, and respectable, and Brianne spoke as well as any of the O’Hara girls she had raised, though she did it in a most unpleasant voice, so crisp and foreign to Mammy’s ears.

“Well, Pa left home when he was quite young. I’m sure your paths rarely crossed.”

There was the subtlest of Irish lilts in Sadie’s midwestern voice when it rolled over certain words. Because Scarlett knew Sadie Grier’s true voice so well, she was probably the only person who noticed this feature. If this had been intentional, Scarlett thought that Sadie was surely a genius for pulling from Brianne O’Hara’s parental ancestry. In no way should she sound like Gerald O’Hara or Dylan Connolly, but something of that culture might surely remain in a second generation Irish American. Sadie had already displayed her gift for accents this past week, forcing Scarlett to muffle her laughter late at night when, for fun, Sadie might briefly break into an accent–the one imitating an animated character named Natasha immediately becoming Scarlett’s favorite.

“Finally,” Scarlett continued, drawing Sadie’s attention from Mammy. “This is Sarah. She’s our housemaid, but will attend to you while you are our guest.”

“It’s good to meet you, Sarah,” said Sadie.

“Miss Brianne,” Sarah replied rather indifferently with a nod of her head.

“Shall we go up?” Scarlett asked, anxious to show Sadie to her own guest room. “I’m sure you’d like to get settled.”

Sadie looked around the large hall and said, “Aren’t we missing someone?”

“Hmm?”

“Your husband.”

“Rhett? He had a late meeting at the bank, but he’ll return before supper. You can meet him, then.”

 Scarlett started up the steps and Sadie’s voice stopped her.

“Scarlett?”

“Yes?”

“I think… I think I might like some air. You wouldn’t mind if I stepped out for just a few minutes?”

“Are you feeling unwell?” Scarlett asked with genuine concern. Sadie’s skin seemed to have swiftly been drained of blood.

“No, it’s just… I’ve been stuck in a train all day and I’d like to take a little more fresh air and exercise my legs before evening falls. It appears that the sun has come out. I could take a short turn in your yard.”

“Of course,” Scarlett agreed.

“I won’t be long,” Sadie gratefully said before stepping around her trunk and heading to the front door. Pork quickly retrieved Sadie’s coat, but she said, “No, thank you. I’m a bit warm.”

Pork then rushed to pull the door open for their guest and Sadie vanished from the vestibule. Scarlett stared at the etched-glass windows of the front door and saw the dark silhouette of Sadie grow more distant as she stepped down off the veranda. The thought of following her crossed Scarlett’s mind, but her instinct told her to leave Sadie alone for a few minutes. It had to be overwhelming to be greeted by nearly the entire household after living in seclusion for so long.

Instead, Scarlett instructed her servants to return to their duties and requested that Pork transport Brianne’s belongings up to the designated guest room.

“Wade,” said Scarlett, garnering her son’s recovering attention. “Wade, please accompany your sisters up to the nursery and let Prissy know that I expect to find them resting when I return.”

“Yes, Mother,” Wade answered obediently. He easily gathered Ella’s hand, but received a “No!” from Bonnie, as she drew away and attached herself to Scarlett’s leg.

“Now, Bonnie…” Scarlett began, wishing that Rhett had been there to bribe the girl with something. She shook her head, thinking on how difficult the girl had become, only showing obedience when a reward was offered. Somehow, Scarlett would need to insist that Rhett break Bonnie of this habit. She couldn’t go through all her life like this.

“Up!” Bonnie demanded of her mother, hoping to continue with the adventures that came with her mother’s new guest.

“I take care of the Lil Miss, Miss Scarlett,” Mammy interjected.

“No, Mammy, I’ve got her,” Scarlett answered, lifting Bonnie with a slight struggle, wanting to personally make certain that Bonnie made it safely up to the nursery. “Go on, Wade,” Scarlett instructed her son. “Mammy, I expect you to follow.”

Mammy nodded and trailed Scarlett, with Bonnie leaning over Scarlett’s shoulder, staring intently at the front door where Brianne had made her exit. Bonnie had clearly expected her mother to have joined cousin Brianne with her in tow and shrieked, realizing that she was instead being carried back to her bed. Her feet jabbed into Scarlett’s hip with kicks in an ongoing struggle to free herself of her mother’s arms, demanding to remain in the company of their new houseguest.

“Bonnie!” she scolded to break through Bonnie’s sobs, which pained her ears. “Stop!”

Bonnie stilled at the fuming tone in her mother’s voice and the frightening tightness of her grasp. Scarlett’s reprimands were always a shock to Bonnie, for her father never raised his voice to her.

“You’re trying my patience. If you don’t start behaving like a little lady, I won’t let you see Brianne at all.”

Bonnie’s face melted at this comment and she began to weep, her forehead falling onto Scarlett’s shoulder. Why was it that her mother always threated to take things away from her when she was behaving in this manner, while her father would always promise to give her more?

“I want Daddy,” she whined.

Scarlett cursed Prissy–and the overindulgent Rhett–under her breath. Bonnie often grew ornery without her nap; today was no exception. And today, Scarlett preferred to blame Prissy–and her husband–for her favorite daughter’s behavior.

“You be good for your mother, Miss Bonnie,” Mammy encouraged from behind. And with those words and Mammy’s calming voice, Bonnie’s sobs grew to low whimpers.

Once they reached the upper hall, Scarlett kissed the temple of her scowling daughter and lowered her to the floor, allowing Mammy to take the girl’s hand.

“See to it that we don’t have another incident like we did a few minutes ago,” Scarlett said with slight coldness, referring to Bonnie’s charge down the steps. “You need to keep Prissy in line. And make sure the girls stay in that room, even if they’re too excited to sleep.”

“Yes’m.”

 

After Scarlett had Brianne Hall’s belongings unpacked and arranged to her liking, she couldn’t help but wonder about Sadie; she’d been outdoors for quite a while. Scarlett decided she should check on her. She rushed down the steps, threw on her coat, and slipped out the front door without notice. She had to squint her eyes after leaving the protection of the covered front porch, as she had grown accustomed to the gray skies of the last several days. Now, blue sky was peeking out between the clouds and the welcome sun had stepped out to say hello. Unfortunately, it would soon be setting.     

Scarlett peered to her left and then to her right, not spotting Sadie at the front of the house. The only logical choice was to proceed to the right, where most of the open property lay, landscaped with trees and flowerbeds, stretching all the way down to the end of the block where an arbor stood. Between the house and the eastern edge of their property stood the servants’ house, stables, and carriage house. The servants’ house appeared deceptively small when dwarfed by the Butler mansion, but it was actually a very respectable size, housing Mammy, Cookie, Pork, Dilcey, Prissy, and Pork and Dilcey’s son, Prince, without cramped quarters. The only other significant structure in the yard was the iron gazebo, and since Scarlett did not spot Sadie out in the open, that was the first place she looked.

When Scarlett reached one of the Gothic arches, her shoes squishing through the saturated grass, she peeked in and spotted Sadie seated on one of the wrought-iron benches along the inner edge, apparently deep in thought as she stared at a patch of grass immediately in front of her.

“Aren’t you–?” Scarlett began as Sadie spotted her and grinned, her entire face lighting up, showing her enthusiasm for Scarlett or her surroundings.

“I love this! It’s as big as the one in _The Sound of Music_ ,” she exclaimed, looking up to the roof of the structure. “ _I am sixteen going on seventeen…Innocent as a rose…Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies…What do I know of those?_ ” sung Sadie, popping off the bench briefly at the end of the phrase.

“Aren’t you cold?” said Scarlett, finally getting in her question, a little puzzled by the song; yet another reference to a time she had not experienced long enough–or too long depending on her sentiments at the moment.

“A little.”

“Are you all right?” Scarlett asked, taking the seat next to the clearly shivering woman. Sadie moved a little closer to Scarlett to draw from her warmth.

Sadie nodded her head.

“It was all just a bit much. Reality hit me so quickly in that moment. Those people that I talk about each week were suddenly alive. We shook hands. We spoke…”

“You handled it well. It went very well.”

“It did, I think,” Sadie agreed. “Your kids are _super_ cute, especially your little Mini-Me. I can see why you wanted to get back to them.”

“You really like them?” Scarlett wondered.

“Yes. You’re surprised?”

“I thought you didn’t like children much.”

“Um, I don’t know. I always find them cute when they’re young, like yours are. And, you know, when they’re not crying or sick or throwing a tantrum…”

Sadie and Scarlett both laughed, Scarlett more bitterly, with the recollection of very recent events.

“But, what I believe I told you was that I didn’t want any of my own. I could probably be an OK aunt–you know, so I could hand them back to their parents at the end of the day–but I’m certainly not cut out for motherhood. Too selfish,” she freely admitted. “You know I like my alone time; that would be impossible if I had kids. And I have so many other interests I’d like to pursue. Motherhood has never been even close to the top of that list.”

"What if I’m too selfish, too?” Scarlett asked curiously, remembering all the times that Rhett had described her that way.

 “You?” Sadie asked, surprised. “Well… Well, if you are, at least you can afford to be.”

 “What do you mean?”

“Unlike me, you can afford help to take care of their daily needs. I don’t think I would have the time or means to be the kind of mother I’d want to be. But you can afford assistance. I’m guessing you’re not the one to clean up after them if they get sick or wet their beds,” Sadie guessed correctly. “If you’re personally running short on time or just don’t want to deal with them on certain days, at least you know that their needs will be met, even if you aren’t directly involved. But you can afford to be a little selfish; and why shouldn’t you be able to do what you want from time to time? You can be a loving mother and still have your own life. You’re a lucky woman to be able to have both.”         

A thankful smile slowly blossomed on Scarlett’s lips. She was sure that Sadie hadn’t realized what her words had meant to her, but it was the first time someone had expressed an opinion on this subject that she had longed to hear, even if she hadn’t known it until now. Rhett had accused her of being a bad mother, with the implication that she should have been more like Melanie Wilkes. But, according to Sadie, she could be herself and still care for her children in a respectable manner. According to Sadie, her type of mothering was not wrong, and neither were her own personal desires. It only took a woman born more than one hundred years into the future to voice the idea to Scarlett. Although, if she had taken the time to read up on the views of some present-day women’s rights advocates, Scarlett would have seen that assenting voices had been here for years.

“I love this gazebo,” said Sadie. “I wish we still had it on the property. I suppose the iron began to oxidize at some point…”       

“Began to what?”

“Oxi– Rust.”

“Oh,” Scarlett understood when hearing the more common description.

Yes, the structure hadn’t been there in the twenty-first century. Scarlett hadn’t exactly noticed its absence at the time, holding onto only what had remained. She twisted at her waist to weave her fingers into the scrollwork, thankful that the iron summerhouse had been returned to her along with everything else that she hadn’t been able to touch or see in 2011.

When Sadie’s shoulders jerked up and her breaths expressed her shivers, Scarlett decided it was time to go in.

“All right, I can’t have you catch cold. You’ll be stuck here longer than even you wish if you have to recover from an illness,” Scarlett declared, rising from the bench. Sadie followed her lead.

“I think I’m better now. Sometimes I literally need to shake out the nerves and the cold helps me speed up that process. I know it sounds weird, but it usually helps me clear the nausea.”

When the two stepped back out into the golden evening sun, Wade’s St. Bernard, Jack–named after the famous Stonewall Jackson–appeared from behind the stables and gamboled toward Scarlett and Sadie, the latter spotting him in the distance.

“Oh, my! Your home isn’t short of furry companions.”

He approached Sadie with interest–and a wagging tail.

“Hello, you,” Sadie sweetly greeted the dog that nearly came up to her hip, ruffling the damp fur on his head and scratching behind his ears. “Oh, no you don’t!” she said, finding it necessary to back away from the friendly canine and hold him at bay. “You’re not going to drool all over this new dress. It’s one of the few that I have.”

“Come here, you,” Scarlett said, leaning over to brace the dog with her arms from behind. “You leave Miss Brianne alone. She’s our guest, and she’s right, she can’t afford to have you ruin her dress,” she concluded with a kiss on the top of his head. He may have been Wade’s dog, but Scarlett loved him almost as much. “Jack spends most of his time in the stables…but I let him sleep next to Wade’s bed from time to time.”

“Luckily your house is big enough to accommodate a dog this size. He’d take up half my apartment.”

“Hopefully it’ll be big enough for two dogs. I’ve been searching for a Bernese Mountain Dog as a gift for Wade, but I’m afraid that breed hasn’t been easy to find here. I think I may have to send for one from Europe.”

“Bernese are sweethearts, but you’re right, not small,” said Sadie. “But, what a sweet gift for Wade.”

“I may turn to Rhett and see if he can easily procure a puppy from Europe since he has so many associates there. Though he might tell me we already have one dog too many.”

Sadie smiled at the comment, scanning the property from the east to the west and back again.

“You’ve done very well for yourself, Scarlett. I can see why you wanted to get back to this. This is much more appealing than rebuilding an entire life from the ground up.”

“I already had to do it once. I don’t know if I would have had the will to do it again in your time,” Scarlett said with absolute honesty.

“I’m sure you would have had it in you,” Sadie complimented. “I know you worked hard for this. I admire you greatly for it,” she said, looping her arm with Scarlett’s so they could return to the house. “And lucky you,” Sadie continued as they approached the looming structure. “You married a millionaire. That certainly doesn’t hurt,” she said, slyly looking at Scarlett out of the corner of her eye. “You would have had to seduce our donor, Greg Atwood, if you were to easily snatch this up again in twenty-eleven,” she said, recalling Jennifer Nolan’s obvious suitor.

“And I could have gotten him, too,” Scarlett said with absolute confidence.

Sadie and Scarlett both fell to laughter, which followed them into the house–along with Wade’s St. Bernard.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long again in adding a new chapter. I promise, I am not a slacker. I just have little time for hobbies, like writing. If you can even remember what this story is about at this point, lol, someone's about to meet Rhett Butler :) Just a little minor language and adult subject (not smut) warning ahead.

## Part Two

### Chapter 22

 

After Scarlett helped Sadie change into the second of her three new dresses, an emerald-colored bombazine that was almost an exact replica of the afternoon’s dress, she offered to escort her through the house and show her how each room appeared in 1871. Supper wouldn’t be served for another hour and a half, so there was plenty of time for a tour. Unlike the tours given by the Atlanta Irish Institute volunteers, Scarlett began at the top, in the ballroom, and worked her way down. The only room off-limits in the living quarters was Rhett’s bedroom. Scarlett was in no mood to explain to Sadie why there was a small bed next to Rhett’s. She had used the excuse of maintaining Rhett’s privacy when explaining why they weren’t to visit. Scarlett was glad that she had replaced Bonnie’s original bed in the nursery, for it was there that Bonnie took her naps with her sister. The nursery had three beds for three children; therefore, there should be no cause for suspicion.

Sadie acted her part well, praising her _cousin_ for the lovely layout of the home and the modern advances Scarlett had chosen. She was the perfect model of a guest in front of the children, Mammy, and Prissy, and she showed just the right level of excitement, aware that anyone could pass a particular room at any moment. But, for her host’s eyes only, she would beam with a grin, showing off the entirety of her white, braces-straightened teeth. In each room, Sadie’s eyes would grow wide–expressing ‘I can’t believe I’m here! I can’t believe I’m here!’–while taking in the scenery, and Scarlett was slightly fearful that Sadie was about to jump for joy on multiple occasions for being the only tour guide to have been lucky enough to experience this; but she somehow kept her composure for outside observers.

Once on the main floor, the two of them spent a fair stretch of time in the privacy of the office off the library. Willie had dropped off the store ledger only minutes before, so Scarlett scanned several recent pages, giving Sadie a small tutorial on this aspect of her business life. Since Scarlett had been occupied with Sadie’s arrival today, she’d had little time for the store. Even tonight, she feared she would not have time to review the day’s logs carefully and might have to rise earlier than normal to determine her priorities for Tuesday.

“Oh, I have something to show you!” Scarlett exclaimed in a whisper once remembering an item that was hiding with her most important papers. She pulled a paperboard file box out of a small wall safe, set it on top of the open ledger, and lifted the lid. The items in the envelope at the top of the stack were documents regarding her downtown Atlanta properties and Tara, and Scarlett proudly presented Sadie the deed to Tara, proving that the land truly belonged to the O’Haras…at least for many years to come, she thought, remembering the unrelated Hills, who had ownership of the remainder of Tara in the twenty-first century. At least John Hill had honored the historic property with his care, and it should live on into the foreseeable future.

“Curses!” grumbled Sadie after the document fell from the edge of the desk where she had placed it. “I’m so sorry,” she added, lowering herself to one knee, and then nearly flattening herself on the floor in order to retrieve it from under the desk, her bustle sticking straight up in the air. “I should never be allowed to touch anything important like this,” she said, while handing the piece of paper back to Scarlett.

“It’s all right. No harm was done. It’s long shown it’s age; the paper is about fifty years old now. And I could fold it up and stomp on it with a muddy shoe and it would still read exactly the same. Though, I would never do that,” Scarlett said before lightly kissing the fragile document, bringing a smile to Sadie’s face.

“Well, I still apologize for my clumsiness. Everything I touch inevitably ends up on the floor at one time or another, especially when– Oh, crap,” she interrupted herself, her face souring at a realization. “Especially when PMS hits. That’s why it’s been so bad… I never even thought about dealing with all of that here. You wouldn’t happen to have a box of tampons on hand, would you?” Sadie joked dryly.

“A box of what?”

“Oh, I suppose you weren’t allowed to use something like that after your– Uh, well, let’s put it this way; Aunt Flo is coming for a visit, very soon.”

“Who?” Scarlett asked confusedly, wondering how Sadie could possibly have an Aunt coming for a visit.

“I’ll be ‘on the rag’ in a few days,” Sadie clarified. “That’s how your generation refers to it, isn’t it? That’s how my grandmothers’ generation referred to it,” she abruptly realized, noting how recent it was that more conveniences had been made for women. “Oh, this is going to be unpleasant,” she sighed despondently.

“The rag…? Oh, that. Yes,” Scarlett answered in a whisper, not particularly wishing to discuss the subject.

“I’ll be your practice case, since you’ll have to explain the specifics to Ella next… about nine, ten years down the road. I hope she’ll have an easier time of it than I do. Just be prepared for my pleads for morphine.”

“It’s really that bad?”

“Sometimes it’s really that bad,” Sadie answered grimly.

“Well, I’ll try to help prepare you as best as I can,” Scarlett offered in conclusion while hunting through the box. “Here it is! Look,” she requested after lifting a folder of mill documents up above the box so Sadie could glance inside.

Sadie’s jaw fell open and reached in to retrieve the sealed letter that Scarlett had requested not to be opened until September 16, 2011. After a frozen moment, Sadie dropped the envelope back into the box as if it had burned her fingers.

“Mind fuck!” she mouthed in reaction to having seen the contents of the letter in 2011, now seeing it sealed again in 1871. “Seriously, cover it back up. I don’t know if– Should I have seen that or not? Would it change anything?”

“Why should it? You and everyone else have already read it.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think we should mess with this time travel business any more than we have to. This is like Schrödinger’s cat-level stuff. The envelope’s open. The envelope’s closed. For me: both closed and open at the same time. I feel like I was only supposed to see this one way. Like I said before, I shouldn’t be here. There’s so much that could change… What if I’m…? Oh, man, what if I’m like some sort of Sam…whatever-his-last-name-was on _Quantum Leap_? Or Marty McFly?” she added, as if that could potentially be worse.

“Sam, who?” Scarlett asked, concerned that Sadie was working herself into one of her manic deliberations. Scarlett began returning the contents to the box, hoping that as soon as the letter was out of sight, Sadie would be able to breathe more easily.

“Sam– He’s a character from an old TV show about time-travel.”

“He’s a character?” Scarlett sighed, already exasperated. “He’s not even real?”

“He traveled to different times and places in history and set things right. He fixed things so a certain person wouldn’t die or he prevented a crime from harming someone; things like that. I don’t care if the scenario is fictional; the idea is valid. What about the chaos theory, the butterfly and the hurricane? What if I mess everything up? What if _I_ change history?”

Scarlett slid the cover on her file box before taking Sadie’s left hand and squeezing it tightly. She had already learned that this sort of touch usually stilled her. It was difficult to be patient at times like this, but Scarlett had promised herself that she would help Sadie in any way that she could. While Scarlett had reacted to her own arrival in 2011 with hidden tears, Sadie seemed to have taken to minor panics.

“You’re talking about something that isn’t even real. Why do you think that you have the power to change history?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

Scarlett shook her head.

“Do you believe it’s possible for a butterfly’s wings to create a hurricane?”

“Now, how could–?” Scarlett began with skepticism.

“Just think about it. A butterfly flaps its wings. It creates the most minor disturbance in the air,” Sadie began, using her hands to animate the idea. “But that disturbance joins with others or it slightly changes the direction of a gust of wind, causing it to build and combine and build until it’s a full-blown hurricane. The smallest of actions can lead to the most major of catastrophes. Or if you want to look at it in a positive light, I suppose…well, I suppose a small act could lead to the greatest of fortunes,” she decided, a touch of relief surfacing in her voice.

“Sadie,” Scarlett sighed.

“Do you only believe in fate?” Sadie wondered. “That we have no control over our lives? That no matter what we do, we can’t alter what was intended for us?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Scarlett answered tiredly, without thought. Of course she’d had control over much of her life; she’d made much of her own success. But all this philosophizing should be left to people like Ashley Wilkes. Perhaps Sadie would like to have this conversation with him someday; Ashley certainly would welcome it. And Scarlett would welcome the reprieve from being Sadie’s only sounding board.

“I don’t know what to believe, either…” Sadie responded. “I have no idea what sort of an effect I’ll have on your life. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything… Maybe something in between. My hands are tied,” she decided, choosing the cautious route. “My hands are tied. My words and knowledge censored. I’m going to have to be even more guarded and careful than I have been,” she warned herself.

“Here,” Scarlett said, pulling out her desk chair. “Sit down for a minute. I know how difficult this can be. But you once taught me how to breathe to get past my nerves. Try to remember to do it for yourself for once,” she concluded with a sympathetic smile as Sadie settled onto the wooden seat.

“Oh,” Sadie groaned, burying her head in her hands. “I think I’m losing my mind,” she mumbled into her palms before looking into Scarlett’s calm eyes. “But I don’t want to ruin anything for you or for– For anyone in your family. I– Of course there are things I could fix, but would that make other, more important things worse?” She looked away and spoke again as if only questioning herself of her general understanding of the world. “If someone were somehow able to prevent known future evils in the world, would it really make a difference? Or would other unanticipated evils spring up just like an endless whack-a-mole game? Do we have the power to make the world better or do good and bad always balance out in the end no matter what we do?” She again buried her face in her hands. “I wish I knew,” she mumbled into her palms, clearly frustrated.

Scarlett didn’t understand what Sadie was working herself up about, and she certainly didn’t have any answers of her own. Sadie’s thoughts darted past Scarlett so quickly that she wasn’t able to grasp even one of them fully. Fate? Butterflies? Damages? Fixes? Whack-a-mole? It all went well above Scarlett’s unanalytical mind and she wished for Sadie to conclude this ruminating. Apparently, so did Sadie…

“Oh, stop it, Sadie,” she ordered herself. “You’re right, Scarlett. I ask too many questions. I think too much. I always have. Sometimes, I wish I were the most naïve, clueless person on the planet,” she stated as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and cradling her chin in her upturned right palm. She distantly stared at the space before her as if nothing was in focus. “Ignorance would be bliss in my life.”

“Don’t concern yourself with any of this. Even if you change my life, how would I ever know it?” Scarlett decided logically. “My life will be my life. I never could blame you for anything that happens.”

“Oh, I don’t know–”

“I know,” Scarlett said, pressing her hand to Sadie’s shoulder and causing her to sit upright again.

“But…well…many other lives could change…far into the future. There could– Well…” Sadie paused a moment. “For example, what if I do something and because of it, the Atlanta Irish Institute doesn’t exist anymore? Dylan’s life would be–”

“Just fine,” Scarlett interrupted, having full confidence in a man like Dylan to find success in any venture.

“What if I do something and this house ends up being razed like all those in that book I showed you?”

“Then, it will happen.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this!” Sadie said, raising her worried eyes to the woman standing beside her.

“Of course, I don’t want it to happen, but– From what Dylan told me, if Wade has anything to say about it, it will always stand. You have to stop worrying about all this or you’re going to drive _me_ to madness, too,” Scarlett joked sternly, eliciting a small chuckle from her friend.  

“What about your great grandchildren?” Sadie asked more calmly. “Don’t you want them to see this house?”

  
“Of course, I do. But I’m not going to lose my mind over it. All I can be concerned with is what needs to be done today. Everything else…well…we don’t have to worry about until tomorrow.”

Sadie’s shoulders finally fell and she seemed to return to her normal, composed self.

“OK, if I had you in my everyday life, I might have saved a lot of money on therapy. It took me a long time to learn your philosophy, and obviously I’m still not always practicing that concept.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me for now,” Scarlett quipped while returning the document box to its shelf in the safe. “Maybe I can straighten out your mind in the meantime,” she concluded teasingly.

There was a knock on the door from the interior of the library as Scarlett closed the safe.

“Yes. Come in,” Scarlett answered.

“Miss Scarlett?” Sarah said once poking her head in. “Cookie needs t’speak wit’ you ‘bout supper.”

“All right. Tell her I’ll come terrectly.” After Sarah departed, Scarlett turned to Sadie and asked, “Will you be all right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine,” Sadie answered confidently, all the while nodding casually.

“Wait for me here. I’m sure I won’t be long.”

Sadie again nodded, more firmly this time, and watched Scarlett sweep out of the room. Out of curiosity and boredom, Sadie began fiddling with objects on top of the desk, exploring the historic office supplies. The most eye-catching item was the inkwell stand, where a pen rested horizontally across a rack that had a shape reminiscent of the front of the sleigh. This was most likely the pen with which Scarlett had composed her letter to Dylan. There were a couple of pencils resting in tandem on the desk’s surface to the right of the store ledger and a small, but weighty metal object that had _EUREKA_ stamped into its side. Sadie lifted it up and decided it must have been a pencil sharper and proved it by slipping the sharp end of one of the pencils into the opening; it fit perfectly. As she twisted the pencil, seeing if she could make it even sharper, the second pencil rolled off the desk, hollowly clanking against the wooden floor, which caused Sadie to raise her eyes to the heavens, perhaps asking God why he had chosen to curse her with such focused concentration and clumsiness; not the best of combinations. If there had been a fire starting in the wastebasket behind her, all she would have been concerned with was making the lead tip of the pencil as sharp as possible, until she finally smelled the smoke or felt the heat of the flames.

After picking up the pencil from the floor–the tip miraculously remaining intact–she set the pair down next to the ledger and impeded their movement with the heavy pencil sharpener. There would be no more fiddling with the office supplies. The warm view of the library called to her. Scarlett hadn’t given Sadie much time to peruse the large collection of books earlier; now might be the perfect time to explore the shelves’ contents.

Her coordination wasn’t much better in the library, for as she drew out a copy of Dickens’ _Little Dorrit_ , the copy of _Great Expectations_ nearly tumbled to the floor, though Sadie caught it before it took a full dive off the shelf. And then a copy of Charles Darwin’s _On the Origin of Species_ caught the owner of _Evolve Salon_ ’s eye. She drew it out from the shelf. As she turned to the copyright page, struggling to read the print in the dim light, the thick green book tumbled out of her hand and to the floor.

After hastily huffing out the contents of her lungs, she immediately spoke out in pure frustration, “Fuck me.” As she lowered herself to the floor in order to retrieve the hopefully undamaged book, a man’s voice spoke out in response.

“Don’t you think we should at least be introduced first?”

Sadie sucked in her breath and her eyes doubled in size at the sound of the unfamiliar voice coming from behind the tall sofa; a resonant, slow-drawling voice very unlike Scarlett’s businesslike tone. By a process of elimination, this could have been only one man.

“Oh, shit,” she said quietly, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth to prevent another unfortunate slip. “No. No. No,” she whispered into her hand. “Please, no. Not like this…”

The man’s muffled steps grew louder across the carpet as he slowly approached.

“May I offer you some assistance?” asked the man, now standing in front of the fireplace, directly to her left.

Sadie gripped the edge of the shelf before her, staring down at her fingers to steady herself, still unable to speak as a large hand reached down to pluck the book from the floor.

“An interesting and unexpected choice,” he commented before snapping the cover shut, causing Sadie to jump slightly. Though, his action also returned her senses.

With courage, she angled her head up and to her left to get her first look at the man. She rose from the floor with a sudden gracefulness, never taking her eyes off her companion: the man she would have no trouble identifying as Rhett Butler. The moment she reached her full height, her line of vision leveling with Rhett’s chin, her eyes widened at the unanticipated stature of the man, unmistakably scrutinizing his perfect appearance in both grooming and attire. Was there a better-dressed man in 1871…or 2011 for that matter? The serious composition of her face slowly melted into a warm smile and she couldn’t help but begin to titter with a fair portion of giddiness as if just realizing the hilarity of the situation and Mr. Butler’s jesting words.

“Goodness! You’re very funny…and quick,” Sadie complimented as if surprised.

“What makes you think I was joking?” asked Rhett, his eyes giving Sadie a brief appraisal from head to toe.

Her upper body drew back defensively.

“What makes you think I was at all serious?” Sadie swiftly countered when their eyes met. She examined him further, studying the depths of his eyes and, with relief, decided, “You were joking.”

Rhett crooked his neck subtly as if challenging her for an explanation on how she’d arrived at her confidently correct opinion.

Sadie sparkling eyes angled off to her right as she remembered something clever that could pass for an answer; she was indeed up to the challenge.

She drew in a breath and stated, “Men seldom make passes…at women who wear glasses,” bravely exposing, rather than hiding the oddity resting on the bridge of her nose.

Once examined and defined, the phrase–borrowed from one of her favorite wits, Dorothy Parker–unleashed a slow roaring wave of laughter from the depths of Rhett Butler’s broad chest and seemed to usher Sadie into a much cheerier mood.

“If that wasn’t the worst introduction in the history of all introductions, I don’t know what is,” Sadie stated, the dimple on her right cheek growing deeper.

“Oh, I have a very clear memory of another comparable meeting,” replied Rhett as the rumbles from his chest had lessened.

“Do you?” Sadie asked with interested skepticism. How could this not have been his single most awkward first encounter?

“The introduction happened to involve my wife.”

Sadie lightly giggled at the news.

“I must ask her about it.” Sadie then looked down, spotting the book hovering between them. “Here, let me,” she said, pulling the book from Rhett’s hands to scan it for any bruises. Thankfully the binding remained dent-free and undamaged, and she properly filed the book away on the shelf. “I do apologize for letting it fall to the floor like that. Obviously, you noted my frustration over my clumsiness. I would hate it if anyone had done that to one of my books. My unfortunate choice of words was _absolutely_ not intended for your–or anyone else’s–ears.”

“My ears were not offended,” Rhett offered as Sadie instinctively evened up the spines of the books on the shelf. His comment regained her undivided attention. “Too often, women are afraid to say what they mean–and it’s a shame. They pretend to not even know the existence of such a vocabulary. And while even _I_ wouldn’t encourage its usage in _all_ company, I don’t mind knowing that some women choose to employ such profanities–conservatively, of course. Apart from my wife, the ladies I know rarely say what they really wish to say. Could it possibly be a unique trait among the O’Hara women?”

Sadie’s cheeks lightly flushed.

“Perhaps some of us,” she responded demurely. “It’s nice to know you are open-minded.”

“As–it seems–are you. Tell me,” Rhett began. “Was it the book’s exterior or the subject matter printed on the interior that interested you most?”

“Am I allowed to answer ‘both’?” she asked.

“I suppose that’s fair. May I ask your reasons why?”

“Well, my favorite color is green–”

Rhett nodded in her direction, indicating his notice of Sadie’s dress color.

Sadie expelled air through her nose, her closed lips smiling through a brief laugh.

“As you see,” she replied, providing a small curtsy. Perhaps a little flustered, she asked herself, “So, where was I?” glancing back at the bookshelf. “Oh, yes, my favorite color… I also found the gilt lettering very attractive. My eyes were initially drawn to the book for its appearance. And, as for the interior, I have always been interested in studies of nature.”

“Are you familiar with Mr. Darwin’s theories?”

“I am.”

“And do you find yourself in agreement with him?”

“It’s very revolutionary thinking, making it difficult for some people to digest, but I believe he’s correct in the majority of his observations–a lot of which are common sense, if one takes the time to consider those ideas. I think that his theories will stand for centuries–”

“Rhett!” Scarlett called from the doorway, stilled at the surprise of catching him already in conversation with Sadie. She had planned on moderating this introduction, and now it was too late. She quickly crossed in front of the sofa to join the duo. “I didn’t know you had arrived.”

“Just a short while ago,” he answered quietly.

Scarlett scanned him, noting that he’d been home long enough to groom for supper, his face freshly-shaven.

“I’m not sure when you intended to inform me that your cousin was arriving today. I assume this is she,” Rhett said, directing his hand in Sadie’s direction while continuing to give his full attention to his wife. “I had to learn about our newly arrived guest from Bonnie just now, and yet, I presume you’ve known about it for days.”

“Well…it was all a bit…undetermined. Brianne wasn’t quite sure when she would be prepared to leave Savannah. I just found out myself,” Scarlett vaguely revealed. “And, _of course_ I told you she was arriving this afternoon,” Scarlett argued convincingly, though it was a lie. She hadn’t wanted any interference or complications from Rhett upon Sadie’s arrival. It had been safer and easier for Scarlett to handle alone, acclimating Sadie to this place and time before facing the onslaught of Rhett Butler. “How could I have forgotten to tell you something like that?”

Rhett shook his head. “I’ve been asking myself that same question.”

“Well, I thought I had, but maybe… I’m not sure how it could have slipped my mind. Didn’t I tell you at dinner?”

Rhett shook his head and studied Scarlett’s upturned face for a moment, chuckling. Her acting skills had definitely improved. Before Rhett could say another word and escalate this already ill-advised debate in front of their company, Scarlett turned her full attention to the subject of this discussion.

“Rhett, this is–”

Scarlett’s voice halted when she noticed that Sadie had taken a step back from them without their notice and was observing their figures as if they were the subjects of the most fascinating sculpture at the Louvre.

“Brianne?” Scarlett asked, thankful that Sadie appeared so different, proper and studious, when in these clothes; otherwise, Scarlett was certain that she would have accidentally called her by her Christian name. “Brianne?” she asked again, noting Sadie’s pensiveness. Would she have to snap her fingers in front of Sadie’s eyes or pat her on the cheek to regain her attention?

“Is she unwell?” Rhett whispered to Scarlett.

“No, I don’t think so,” Scarlett answered while taking a few steps forward. She reached for Sadie’s hand and at the moment of contact, Sadie swiftly drew in air as if she had only just now remembered to breathe.

“Brianne,” Scarlett spoke again, transmitting a calming smile to her friend. “I’d like to introduce you to my husband, Rhett Butler. And Rhett, this is my cousin, Brianne Hall, my uncle James’ granddaughter.”

Sadie politely bowed her head with a slight curtsy and said, “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Butler.”

“Welcome to our home, Mrs. Hall,” Rhett replied in kind. “I’d say that makes up for our earlier introduction,” he added.

Sadie laughed briefly, “Yes, this was much improved.”

“Why? What happened?” Scarlett immediately asked, hating to be left out of what seemed like a private secret. Her attention transferred from one party to the other and back again.

“I’m afraid your husband got a substantial dose of my _French_ ,” she admitted, forgetting that the Butlers would probably not yet be aware of the phrase. “Again, I do sincerely apologize,” she directed to Rhett.

“Your French?” asked Scarlett.

Rhett gave a short laugh, and smartly commented, “Excusez-moi, mais cela n’a pas français.” (Pardon me, but that was not French.)

Sadie fought a smile and responded, “Oui, vous avez raison. Cela n’a pas été français. C’est une expression,” (Yes, you are correct. That was not French. It’s an expression.) surprising both Rhett and Scarlett with her response.

“An O’Hara who speaks French,” said Rhett, his mocking eyes directed at Scarlett. “How novel!”

“What are you both going on about?” Scarlett said, annoyance creeping out with her words. They were both being cryptic with their secret as far as she was concerned, and she didn’t like it. “And I speak French,” Scarlett added, protesting to her husband.

“Tu le penses vraiment, ma chère?” (Do you really, my dear?) Rhett responded skeptically.

Scarlett didn’t exactly understand the words, but knew Rhett’s meaning precisely. When they were in New Orleans, Scarlett was only able to muster a few salutations and had to rely on Rhett to translate when in the company of Francophones. Of course she had been exposed to the language in her schooling and through her mother, but anything in her mind that had not been necessary for survival had been jettisoned long ago.

She glanced down, “Well, how am I to remember such things? It’s not as if I’ve needed it to get by.”

“And, you, Mrs. Hall? Have you needed it to get by?”

“Ah…?” she considered Rhett’s question. “No. Not particularly. I just enjoy the language.”

Scarlett huffed, already growing aggravated by Rhett’s comparisons between the two women, as if Sadie were somehow superior to her for this talent.

Once Sadie noted Scarlett’s frustration, she added, “Though, it’s been a necessity when I’ve traveled to France. So, one could say that I _have_ needed it to get by.”

“You’ve visited France?” said Rhett with interest. “Where in–?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this conversation,”–though she really wasn’t–“but supper is ready to be served,” Scarlett said tersely. “We should move to the dining room before everything gets cold, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sadie said, pressing her hand to her stomach, apologizing as if this delay were entirely her fault.

“Then, I suppose I should collect Bonnie,” said Rhett. “She said she wanted me to escort her down the stairs for supper. It had something to do with the Queen of England, from what I could gather.” Before he turned to leave, he added, “I’m sure there will be plenty of time for us to continue our conversation at supper, Mrs. Hall,” bowing to her alone. “Again, welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. I’m very happy to be here.”

Once Rhett was out of earshot, Sadie’s face turned beet red.

“What happened in here before I arrived?” Scarlett whispered.

“I cursed up a storm,” Sadie revealed guiltily. “I’m so stupid.” Sadie caging her face in her hands.

“What? In front of Rhett?”

“He overheard me,” she said as if the words were sour. “I didn’t know he was there. I dropped that Darwin book,” Sadie explained, pointing to it on the shelf with her thumb, “and I was so frustrated by that point that I couldn’t help myself. No ‘great balls of fire!’ or ‘stars above!’ would suffice.”

“You’re not starting out on very solid ground, _Brianne_ ,” Scarlett warned quietly through clenched teeth, continuing to glance at the doorway.

“As if I couldn’t tell.” Sadie then lifted her hand up like a Girl Scout. “Lesson learned. Stay in character at all times, even when I’m completely alone.”

“And why were you speaking French?”

“I couldn’t help myself,” Sadie responded. “Your husband was showing off–slightly arrogant, isn’t he? So, anyway, I decided to…well…show him that I was just as smart.”

“Why would Brianne speak French? She’s Irish and German. Although, I suppose _Sadie Grier_ is French,” Scarlett determined sarcastically.

“Juste un peu,” (Just a little.) answered Sadie, holding her thumb and forefinger only a millimeter apart.

Scarlett rolled her eyes.          

“Brianne O’Hara can choose to learn French just like any other person,” Sadie reasoned.

“All right,” Scarlett agreed. “But now Brianne’s traveled to France, too?”

“Didn’t we decide that Matthew Hall is in Europe now, performing? That’s why he isn’t here with Brianne. Don’t you think they may have traveled to Europe together in the past for his performances? They could have easily visited France.”

The story of Brianne Hall had been based in reality as far as Suellen Benteen knew. Scarlett had sent a letter informing the current mistress of Tara that their cousin was interested in a visit. Miraculously, Suellen had actually responded to her sister’s letter–a very rare occurrence. And surprisingly, Suellen seemed to remember more details about Brianne O’Hara than Scarlett had, including facts about Brianne’s husband, Matthew Hall, and his career. He was a violist, from what Suellen recalled, and he gave music lessons and performed in small groups when in Chicago. But he was also known to travel from time to time to New York and abroad to perform with various orchestras and meet with his peers.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Scarlett sighed in response to Sadie’s assessment, already exhausted with the lies. In this moment, when it was finally becoming clear what this endeavor would involve, Sadie couldn’t return home soon enough for Scarlett. Until that day, they would both always be on edge trying to protect their secrets. How many slips would it take to raise Rhett’s strongest suspicions? “Why couldn’t I have just told the truth?” Scarlett lamented to herself. She exhaled out her frustration and spoke, “I suppose I’m making too much of this. It won’t do us any good if I become hysterical.”

“We’re both going to stay calm, cool, and collected,” said Sadie, holding her hand out for Scarlett’s.

“Calm, cool, and collected,” Scarlett agreed with a nod, shaking on their pact. She instantly felt lighter. And her appetite had returned.

“Come on, Brianne.” She took Sadie’s arm. “Let’s have you eat like a civilized person for once.”

 

During supper, the conversation centered on Brianne Hall, as expected. Rhett nearly caught Sadie off guard when he inquired about the status of the Hall home, but she only needed a brief pause to file through the Chicago timeline in her memory to realize the basis of his question.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Leary’s cow…” she said quietly, referring to the Great Chicago Fire that had occurred the previous month. “No, thankfully we live to the west, over near St. Patrick’s–if you’re familiar. We were not affected directly by the fire, but it has been devastating for the city…”

“Well-played,” thought Scarlett, proud to have such an intelligent partner in this undertaking. Thank goodness Sadie knew her history–and geography. Why hadn’t either of them thought of studying up on current events? Well, Scarlett would try to confiscate Rhett’s morning newspaper tomorrow and let Sadie gather the current day’s news and information.

When Rhett’s curiosity about Brianne’s name led him to inquire about its relation to her father, Brian O’Hara, she responded:

“It appears that the female has dominated our family since Grandpa O’Hara and Great-Uncle Gerald’s generation,” Sadie said, referring to the fact that both Brianne and Scarlett’s parents only had female offspring, when just one or two generations before, the O’Hara family was completely dominated by males. “With a few fine exceptions,” she added, offering a warm smile to Wade, who sat to her left. “I’m the third of four girls. After I was born, I think my parents started to give up hope of ever having a boy. My mother wanted a Brian, but instead, decided she might have to settle for a Brianne.”

Whether the story had any truth to it or not, they would probably never know, but Scarlett admired Sadie’s creativity.

At the conclusion of dessert, Rhett finally made comment on the similarities, or lack thereof, between Scarlett and Brianne.

“I’ve been struggling to find much of a resemblance between the two of you, but I have just now observed one common trait.”

“What’s that?” Scarlett asked, scraping up the last smudge of meringue from her plate.

Rhett directed Scarlett’s attention to Sadie, recognizing her efforts to remove the very last crumbs from her own plate. The two women looked at one another, noting their mirrored behavior. Both set down their forks simultaneously and giggled, their eyes transmitting to each other their knowledge of this small, unplanned victory. Perhaps they would not raise Rhett Butler’s suspicions exceedingly should they accidentally display enough similar traits.

“Well, I’m not sure of Scarlett’s reasons, but I was raised to _waste not, want not_ ,” replied Sadie, and lightheartedly asked, “And what’s worse that wasting a morsel of a dessert that I desperately wanted?”

 

*              *              *

 

Night was upon them–the quarter moon and street lamps, the only sources of light illuminating the cool outdoors. The house was quiet; the children had long been in bed and the adults had just concluded an evening lounging in the reception room, with Sadie and Scarlett sharing a pot of tea and Rhett nursing a glass of whiskey or two. Conversation had again turned its attention to Brianne Hall and specifically to the subject of Matthew Hall. Why hadn’t he joined Brianne on this journey? Sadie explained that Matthew had left for Prague around the same time that she had traveled to Savannah to visit her grandparents. Matthew was traveling to collaborate with a young man named Antonín Dvořák at the National Theatre there. And why hadn’t Brianne traveled with her husband to Europe? “Family,” was her reply. Her grandparents were not getting any younger and it seemed the perfect opportunity for a long visit without taking her husband away from his work. And this would give her a chance to escape the damaged city of Chicago for a while, but still remain relatively close to home.

Thankfully, Rhett was unable to make the conversation entirely about Brianne Hall because Scarlett directed the discussion to the story of her own life, sharing news of her branch of the O’Hara family, and had probably bored Sadie out of her mind since she’d already known plenty of information about the O’Haras, and especially about Scarlett. But _Brianne_ was an avid listener. Scarlett talked of her life being raised the daughter of Gerald O’Hara and shared her best memories of growing up on a cotton plantation in Georgia. She spoke of her mother and sisters and neighbors and childhood friends. Her present was as much a topic of conversation as her past, as she talked of her businesses and then her children, in that order, and encouraged Rhett to tell portions of his own impressive riches-to-rags-to-riches tale. The less Sadie needed to speak, the better.

Yawns crept into the conversation fairly early and the two women finally excused themselves for bed when their yawns outnumbered their words. Both had overspent their energy quota for this trying day on preparations, introductions, and deceptions.

After climbing the long staircase, Scarlett followed Sadie into the guest room that was situated opposite Rhett’s bedroom. Scarlett was not looking forward to this day ending. While she was exhausted and eager for an uninterrupted evening of sleep, she had to admit that she was a bit melancholy knowing that she would be losing her evening companion. The thought of having her room to herself again should have been a happy one, but Scarlett would certainly miss the company. The same might not be said for Sadie.

After Scarlett shut the door, Sadie expressed her delight.

“Oh, my own room! My own bed,” she exhaled, plopping herself onto her back and stretching across the mattress, only her lower legs dangling off the edge. “I’m so tired…” she whispered to the ceiling.

“Do you have everything you need?” Scarlett asked, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “I can assist you enough so you can change into your nightgown since Sarah needed to leave early.”

“All right,” agreed Sadie, as she rolled over onto her side, eventually using her arms to push herself up from the feather bed since her waist would not bend naturally. “It’s probably lucky for me that she needed to leave early because I was just thinking that maybe it’s not such a good idea to have Sarah assist me.”

“Why not?” asked Scarlett.

“This,” said Sadie, pulling back her sleeve to reveal her left wrist. “She might see my tattoo.”

“Oh,” Scarlett sighed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I can do most everything on my own, I think.”

“And I’ll help you with the rest,” Scarlett offered.

“Sarah won’t be offended, will she?”

“No. I think she was interested in gaining some experience as a lady’s maid…and I was interested to see how she performed in case I decided to swap Prissy for her, but I won’t force you to be my trial. We’ll just tell her you’re used to being independent. I’m sure Brianne doesn’t have any servants, or at least not many.”

“I think you’re probably right– Oh, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”

Sadie walked over to the marble-topped washstand along the wall and lifted up a closed straight razor.

“What’s this for?”

“For shaving.”

“What, my mustache and beard?” Sadie joked.

“No,” Scarlett giggled. “Just for…whatever you used your razor for before.”

“You’re kidding? You’re going to let me play around with this? I even cut myself with a safety razor. Aren’t I supposed to be living as your contemporaries live? Where I come from, when you’re encased in long underwear and down jackets most of the year, hardly anyone’s going to notice if you shaved or not–and no one will notice here either. In the past, I often went au naturel for months at a time so this won’t be too much of a hardship. I probably won’t use it.”

“If that’s what you prefer,” Scarlett replied with a shrug.

Sadie set the enclosed blade down next to the washbasin and returned to Scarlett’s side.

“Nothing seems to have slipped your mind. I noticed the tweezers,” Sadie said with a grin, thrilled that Scarlett had procured an item on her wish list. “I’m very impressed…and appreciative.”

She lifted her left leg up onto her right knee and began untying her shoelaces.

“I do love my legs freshly-shaven, but I think if I tried to use that, I might end up bleeding to death here and would never make it home. And if that were the case, will you bury me at Oakland Cemetery?” she asked, depositing the first shoe on the floor and switching legs. “And I love those angel-like female statues there with the flowing togas. You know, the ancient Greek-Roman look? Add one to my tombstone, please. You have enough money, surely, to honor your dear friend–or should I say ‘cousin’?”

Scarlett laughed. She would miss Sadie’s nightly humor.

“Well, how should I know what statues you’re referring to? You wouldn’t let me visit the cemetery,” Scarlett facetiously complained. “Too afraid to even let me visit my first husband’s grave. No, I’ll send your body back to Chicago, as it should be,” she teased. “And, _I’ve_ been doing just fine with it.”

“Fine with what?” Sadie asked, lowering the other shoe to the floor.

“A razor.”

“A razor! You’re seriously still…? Why?”

“I liked the way it felt, I guess. My legs were softer. And why must I have hair under my arms, anyway?”

“Oh, my gosh. You’re going to kill yourself,” Sadie said, speaking her concerned thought with a nodding head.

“I’m careful,” said Scarlett.

“Where else are you using it?”

“Just my legs and under my arms.”

“Good,” Sadie voiced with relief. “But, at least use wax or something instead of a sharp blade.”

“I could try that sometime,” answered Scarlett. “But I remember that it was painful,” she added, recalling the time when the esthetician that worked at Sadie’s salon had used the technique on Scarlett’s eyebrows, removing just a few hairs to even things out. Not only had Scarlett been required to test the hair products in order to work at the salon, she also was encouraged to try the part-time massage therapist and the esthetician for reference; she much preferred the Swedish massage to the waxing. Scarlett was glad that Sadie had insisted that she choose to focus on an area above the waist or below the knees for the waxing, not that Scarlett could understand why _in between_ was even an option; women went to such extremes in the future!

“What did your husband think of it?”

“Think of what?”

“Your smooth legs. Did he like it? Or did it confuse him? Since you never told him about the future, how did you explain yourself? Did you tell him you decided to embrace the old ways of ancient Egypt or Rome?”

Scarlett looked away to hide her reddening cheeks. She wasn’t about to inform Sadie that there was no way Rhett could have known about her hairless legs by sight or otherwise. Sadie still didn’t know that husband and wife had had separate beds for the past two years; that hadn’t changed after Scarlett returned from 2011.

“He must have noticed,” added Sadie. “By the way, what are you doing here anyway?”

It seemed like there had been an instant change in subject and the hot blood drained from Scarlett’s cheeks. Her discomfiture lessened and she returned her attention to her guest.

“What do you mean?” Scarlett asked.

“I thought you’d want to be locked away in your bedroom with your husband by now. It’s been nearly a week. If I were in a similar situation, I would have already long forgotten about my corseted cousin and would have left her to disrobe all by herself. You must be so glad to be rid of me and have your handsome husband back. He’s got the style and grooming perfection of Cary Grant and Matt Bomer, and the masculinity of Joe Manganiello, Clark Gable, and Gerard Butler–I wonder if there’s any relation?” she wondered to herself. “I can’t imagine how you could stand being apart from him this past week…or those months with us. I always thought him handsome in photographs, but in person, in 3D…wow! You hit the jackpot, that’s for sure. He’s like the ultimate leading man. Though, it seems like he enjoys playing the comedian, too. Groucho Marx comes to mind–”

“Is that why you were so quiet in the library? You were surprised by his appearance?” Scarlett asked, forgetting that Sadie and Rhett had been in easy conversation when she’d entered the library. She had not prepared herself for the fact that Sadie might find Rhett attractive. She herself had forgotten that fact since their long estrangement; the ugliness that had emerged from both of them before her miscarriage had shrouded anything pleasant on the exterior. Had Sadie been stunned silent by Rhett’s handsomeness?

“I was quiet?” Sadie asked as if she could not remember.

“I could barely get your attention in the library when I first joined you and Rhett.”

“Oh… Oh, that. No. Well, yes, in a way, I guess,” Sadie wavered. “It was just that I– Well, it was very– You both– Well, it’s like this. Have you heard the phrase: _the whole is greater than the sum of its parts_?”

Scarlett shook her head even though it sounded like mathematics was involved.

“One plus one is normally two, but sometimes it’s really more like a million, if that makes any sense.”

Scarlett stared blankly, still not understanding what Sadie was getting at.

“You’re one person. Rhett Butler is another. Separate, you’re each magnetic individuals, for sure, but together, you two have the impact of something much greater. You and Rhett Butler create something special. I felt this pulse, this energy when you stood side-by-side and I… It was just very exciting for me to see you two together in person.”

“Rhett and me?” said Scarlett, voicing her confused thoughts. Her brow scrunched together in contemplation, appearing as if she had just smelled something unpleasant. “I suppose we’re a handsome people, but,” she laughed, “but, all that you witnessed was us bickering over your arrival. How in Heaven’s name are you dumbstruck by something like that?”

“Well, it wasn’t that,” Sadie answered. “It was just the fact that you were both standing there together, interacting. It was special.”

Scarlett giggled at the absurdity of Sadie’s sentiments.

“My, the exposure to the outdoor air today must have gotten to your head.”

“Hmm?” questioned Sadie.

“Oh, it’s just that–” Scarlett paused, realizing that the more she said on the subject, the more suspicious Sadie would become about this marital relationship. It seemed as far as Sadie and her cohorts at the modern Butler mansion were concerned, Rhett and Scarlett were happily married. “I suppose she tells all her tour groups that Rhett and I were madly in love,” Scarlett thought, amusing herself. Apparently a lot of the bad in life gets brushed under the carpet when retelling history, including the truth about her estrangement from Rhett.

Scarlett rose from the bed and encouraged Sadie to do the same.

“Let’s not waste time talking about such a dull subject. Let me help you loosen your stays so we can both get to bed. I’m tired.”

“Sorry,” Sadie said, lifting herself onto her tired legs. “We both need to get to bed, and here I am talking your ears off…” She quickly worked on the buttons of her dress. After reaching the last one, Scarlett helped remove the garment and gently laid it across the back of a chair while Sadie stepped out of her petticoats, removed the corset cover, and untied the bustle. “It’s like I’m living in the frozen tundra again, with all these layers…” Sadie commented as she turned to expose her back to Scarlett.      

“We need to discuss how you’re going to get home,” said Scarlett while loosening the strings. “We’ll have to work on it when we get the chance: when the hall is empty, or better, on an evening when Rhett’s out. At least we know most of the answers.”

Sadie nodded.

“There. That should do it. I barely had to do a thing since you wanted it so loose,” said Scarlett with a trace of admonishment.

Sadie unfastened the busk and threw the corset on the bed next to the bustle, glancing to the private corner where a commode stood. She had already seen the chamber pot inside earlier, but was uninterested in ever trying it out.

“Is it all right if I continue to use your bathroom?”

“Yes, of course,” Scarlett generously offered. “Though a chamber pot is considerably easier if you must…uh…find some relief…when you’re dressed. I generally assume that most of our guests would prefer to avoid our modern contraption. This is what they’ve always done,” said Scarlett, pointing at the commode.

“I won’t be one of them,” Sadie answered dryly.

“Just knock on the bathing room door first to make sure it is not occupied.”

Sadie nodded.

“Since you’ve seen the straight razor, I’m sure you’ve discovered your toothbrush and soap and towels.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything else that you need tonight? I’ve already shown you where your nightgown is kept. There’s a wrapper hanging in the closet, there. You can safely wear that into the hall over your nightgown or chemise; you won’t be seen as indecent. Slippers are next to your bed–I remembered them at the last minute. A pitcher of water is on the washstand and a water glass is on the table by the bed. And you know how to turn out the lamps. There should be plenty of blankets, but if you get cold, there’s another one…yes,” said Scarlett, discovering a spare in a lower dresser drawer, “right here.”

Sadie vulnerably stood in the middle of the room in her white stockings, drawers, and chemise, her eyes suddenly filling out with a layer of moisture. Scarlett wondered if she had said something to upset her guest and started to approach her.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” Sadie said as a tear dropped from her eye. “You don’t know what your kindness means to me. I hope I can somehow repay you for your generosity.”

“Oh, don’t concern yourself with that,” said Scarlett, pressing her hand against Sadie’s bare shoulder for a moment in a rare show of tenderness. “You’ve already repaid me by taking care of me in your time. I’ll never forget how you all protected me.”

Sadie shyly smiled and grumbled to herself, “Stupid hormones,” wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling.

“And I’ll never forget that you offered me a way to start earning a living for myself there even though I knew nothing of your business when I started.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that I regretted it,” she commented jokingly, though Scarlett gave her a worried look. “I had to scramble for front desk assistance after you disappeared. I suppose I should have had a better backup plan– Oh, I forgot to tell you, Jess had her baby on October second: a boy.”

“That’s what she guessed it would be,” Scarlett recalled, a bit in awe. While Scarlett had learned the amazing fact that a modern woman could learn the sex of the baby before it was even born, Jessica said that she and her husband had wanted to be surprised. However, Jessica had also informed her that they had tried for a boy. It was fascinating that not only could a modern woman choose when or if to conceive, but she also had access to knowledge about ways to potentially conceive a boy specifically. Scarlett had regretted asking how that was possible because she didn’t understand any of the details of the casual instructional and she wasn’t at all comfortable asking for clarification. She had felt uneducated and inexperienced on multiple levels.  

“As much as I was looking forward to having my own space again, I think I’m going to miss you. For once, I’m not too keen on being alone.”

Sadie’s statement caused Scarlett to return a smile. It was nice to know that Sadie would miss her, too.

“You know where I am if you need me,” said Scarlett.

Sadie nodded.

“Yes, but I think I have everything that I need: a comfortable bed, a roof over my head…and a working toilet. I couldn’t ask for more. Go on,” Sadie said, nearly shooing Scarlett to the door. “You’ve got better things to do than babysit me. I’ll be fine. What’s important is that you get back to your own life. And I promise, you don’t have to worry about me interrupting you tonight,” Sadie concluded earnestly, clearly intending the ‘you’ in the plural form, though Scarlett did not catch the implication.

Scarlett gripped the brass doorknob and nodded, waiting to exit until Sadie stepped away from the door, being only clad in her chemise.

“Goodnight, Brianne. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Scarlett.”

Scarlett stepped out into the dim hall, pulling the door closed behind her, and crossed over to her door, now very eager to stretch her limbs out across the entire surface of her bed. Sleep called after this hectic day; nothing sounded sweeter. Scarlett swept into her bedroom and began to close her door when she heard Rhett’s familiar footsteps on the stairs. She grabbed the door with her left hand to halt its movement, waiting for Rhett to pass.

“Goodnight, Rhett,” Scarlett spoke quietly when he came into view.

Rhett turned to her door, clearly surprised to see Scarlett still up and pausing to wish him a good night.

“Is your cousin settled?”

Scarlett nodded.

“I just left her. She might use the bathing room in a short while. I told her to knock on the door, first.”

Rhett nodded in comprehension.

Scarlett’s eyes studied the man before her, wondering about all the men Sadie used as a comparison to him a few minutes ago. Unfortunately, the examples were all foreign to her, but she could tell by Sadie’s tone that each was an attractive specimen. It gave Scarlett pride to know that her husband fell into an apparently elite category.

“Are you going to bed?” she asked.

“That was my plan,” Rhett answered plainly.

“And you’ll be at the bank tomorrow?”

“Yes. Why the sudden interest in your beloved husband’s schedule? Are you expecting me to entertain your guest when you’re occupied with business matters?”

“No,” Scarlett whispered while glancing toward Sadie’s bedroom door. “I’m only curious. That’s all.” She couldn’t tell him that she needed to find out when he would be away so she and Sadie could examine the staircase.

“You and your cousin seem to be getting along well,” commented Rhett.

Scarlett again looked down the hall to Sadie’s door.

“If we’re going to have a discussion about my cousin, I’d rather not have it in the hall where she might hear. One never knows what you’re going to say,” Scarlett remarked, stepping back into her room, the door widening in invitation.

Rhett glanced at the hand gripping the door, noting the gold wedding band glinting in the gaslight, recently replaced, surely, for the benefit of Scarlett’s guest. He did not suspect the truth that it had also been returned for his benefit. Rhett grudgingly stepped into Scarlett’s bedroom, suspicious of Scarlett’s motive.

“Is this the plan for the duration of Mrs. Hall’s stay?” asked Rhett tiredly, ambling in the direction of Scarlett’s vanity as she closed the door.

“What plan?” Scarlett asked when she turned to Rhett.

“Surely, now that we have a house guest, you’d like us to portray the perfect picture of a family for her benefit. Do you intend for me to stay here for the duration of her visit?”

“Here?” asked Scarlett innocently, her tired mind dense. Her original thought was that Rhett had plans to leave for another state or continent very soon, leaving her with Sadie and probably only two of her children. “You hadn’t said that you were going on a trip,” she stated, disappointment creeping into her voice.

“A trip?” Rhett said, before falling to light laughter. “No, my endearingly innocent wife. I meant, here, in your room. You had hoped that Mrs. Hall would witness my entrance into your room, hadn’t you? Am I to spend my nights on your settee for appearances sake?”

Scarlett’s mouth fell open, realizing the sort of plan of which Rhett was referring, and she folded her arms across her stomach.

“No. Of course, not,” she answered. “Besides, we have a connecting door,” she added practically.  

“How convenient–”

“And I don’t particularly care what Brianne thinks.”

“Clearly,” Rhett replied, not so subtly eying Scarlett’s wedding band again.

Scarlett fell silent and casually concealed her fists in the small of her back. Rhett had easily caught her. She was disappointed that he thought she had only replaced the rings in order to mislead her guest. But, what could she say about it now? Rhett had already made up his mind–and he was partly correct.

“You and Mrs. Hall seem to have grown attached fairly quickly.”

“Yes. I like her very much,” Scarlett replied.

 “Is she as you remembered her? She seems a bit livelier than Miss Melly–more like you–more spirited than you let on: very clever. She’s nothing like I expected her to be. And you may not have been exposed to this curious attribute as of yet, but I think she swears more regularly–and more creatively–than most of the sailors I knew…and I knew my fair share of sailors.”

“Well, she is a Yankee,” Scarlett automatically answered, attempting to dampen Rhett’s statement, “even if she is an O’Hara. And you know Yankees have no manners.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hall possesses most of the manners that matter, as do most Northerners,” observed Rhett. “She might speak a little differently and use some unfamiliar language, but Pork told me she was a very kind and quiet child. Besides her rather coarse tongue, I can imagine that she is a more mature version of the young woman that Pork knew.”

“Do you like her, too?” Scarlett questioned curiously.

“I was very impressed. She appears to be a credit to the O’Hara name.”

For some reason, Scarlett took that comment as if she, herself, did not fit into that category in Rhett’s eyes. After all, Brianne spoke French and traveled, which meant she was interested in other languages and cultures beyond her own. She was knowledgeable about scientific discoveries, which meant her mind was open to new, controversial ideas. And clearly, Brianne had a sense of humor about herself. Scarlett knew that Rhett admired these qualities in others, but she, herself, was rarely–if ever–able to express those traits in her own life.

Scarlett wrung her hands behind her, unconsciously adjusting her engagement ring.

 “It’s late. It’s been a long day,” voiced Scarlett quietly.

“So, it has.”

Scarlett slipped around Rhett, the skirt of her dress caressing the top of Rhett’s shoe and pant leg, and made her way to the door of the passageway. She swiftly turned the key and pulled the door open.

“You must be tired,” empathized Rhett.

Scarlett raised her eyes to him and nodded, calmed by his kindness.

“Goodnight, Scarlett,” Rhett said with a bow of his head. “Sleep well,” he added when passing by. Before Rhett even entered the passageway, Scarlett noticed Blackbeard bolting into her room.

“You little rascal!” grumbled Scarlett, turning to spot the location of the kitten in the dim room.

Rhett chuckled to himself quietly once realizing that Scarlett was speaking of the feline; she hadn’t suddenly taken to calling him names as a preferred manner of parting.

“I’ll get him and bring him back,” she said, turning in the closet’s direction, where she had suspected that he’d found refuge.

“Keep him. Leave the door open once you’re ready for bed, Scarlett,” suggested Rhett. “I think Blackbeard’s missed you this past month. I’m sure you’ve noticed him scratching at your door in the early hours of the morning. I will admit; you do have a way with the animals. He much prefers your company to Bonnie’s. If you leave the door open, he can come and go as he pleases…if you have no objections?”

Scarlett shook her head and answered, “No,” simultaneously. “I’ll leave it open.”

She knew that Rhett was in no way indicating that he desired this arrangement for himself. That was very clear. Of course Scarlett didn’t expect Rhett to ever join her again. That part of their life was over. Rhett had settled Scarlett’s uncertainty on this subject with his emotional distance in the last few days. While the change had been very subtle, Scarlett knew that something had been different ever since the day Rhett had discovered that she’d been having nightmares about the recent miscarriage. And apparently, the fact that Scarlett had started wearing Rhett’s rings again hadn’t changed his mind that the marriage was over. She wasn’t quite sure if she was to be happy about this turn of events or not, though she did not feel particularly happy or satisfied. In any case, she’d think about that some other time.

“Goodnight,” said Rhett with a nod.

When he reached his room, he looked back to Scarlett’s door.

“Goodnight, Rhett,” Scarlett spoke softly, so as to not wake up Bonnie. She then silently closed the door.

As Scarlett walked in the direction of the bell pull to ring for Prissy, her hand grazed the back of the settee remembering Rhett’s incorrect assumption that she had been preparing to ask that he sleep there in order to keep up appearances. Scarlett frowned, wondering how long it would take for Sadie to discover the truth about their separate and permanent living arrangements. Sadie was already suspicious. If she were to be here much longer, surely she would learn their not-so-secret secret. The entire town knew, after all. Scarlett could only hope that Sadie would remain silent on the subject once she returned to 2011, because discovery was inevitable.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Loretta Lynn for some of her song lyrics used in this chapter.

## Part Two

### Chapter 23

 

On Tuesday, the day after Brianne’s official arrival, Scarlett brought Sadie over to Melanie and Ashley Wilkes’ little house on Ivy Street. Melanie had insisted on the introduction, wanting to show Scarlett’s cousin a warm Atlanta welcome. After all, Brianne was almost like her family, too, reasoned Melanie; they must become better acquainted. All that Scarlett told Sadie about Melanie Wilkes was that she was her first husband’s sister and Wade’s aunt.

“Mrs. Hall. How lovely of you to come,” Melanie greeted in her serene way while Scarlett and Sadie stood on the Wilkes’ small, but towering porch outside the front door.

“Please, call me Brianne,” requested Sadie. “And thank you for the invitation. I’ve come to Atlanta to better acquaint myself with my extended O’Hara family, and what better way to do that but to meet everyone connected to it–O’Hara or otherwise?”

Melanie smiled at the words, but Scarlett sensed that Sadie’s voice was not met with complete approval. Melanie Wilkes, inviting a Yankee into her home when so many Confederate greats had passed through her door! Scarlett had given her fair warning, but when confronted with it in person, it gave her pause. But, of course graciousness triumphed, and Melanie stepped aside to let the women pass into her home. There had to be some nice Yankee women, especially if the woman was an O’Hara.

“I’ve been very interested in meeting you, too, ever since Scarlett told me of your upcoming visit. You’ve been in Savannah with your grandparents?”

“Yes. Have you ever been to Savannah?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t gone very far afield.”

“Well, you should try to see Savannah one day. It’s a magical and lovely place,” said Sadie with true feeling. “I miss it already.”

“Maybe, one day…” Melanie said distantly. “Your grandfather is James O’Hara, Mr. O’Hara’s oldest brother?”

Sadie nodded.

“My family–” Melanie began. “We are all indebted to the O’Hara family for their kindness, support, and shelter during and following the war. Scarlett, especially, has been our greatest guardian.”

“Oh?” said Sadie, turning to meet Scarlett’s slightly embarrassed expression. Scarlett appeared as if the compliment were not deserved. If only Sadie had known that Ashley Wilkes was the real reason for Scarlett’s guardianship; surely she would have given a disapproving lecture. Instead, Sadie granted Scarlett a smile of admiration.

Dilcey approached to take the women’s coats, gloves, and bonnets.

“Thank you…” Sadie began, turning to Scarlett and eyeing Melanie for an introduction.

“Brianne. This is Dilcey,” said Scarlett, already accustomed to Sadie’s wish to know everyone. “She’s been with the Wilkes and O’Hara families for ages.”

“Oh, you’re Dilcey! It’s very nice to meet you. Your husband is Pork.”

“Yes, Miss Brianne. He tol’ me ‘bout you. Nice t’see you as lovely as he say you are,” Dilcey commented with sincerity.

“Um…thank you,” Sadie replied, her cheeks reddening, surely wondering how someone like her could live up to the reports about Brianne O’Hara; it would be like Scarlett O’Hara trying to step into the shoes of Melanie Hamilton.

“Dilcey, will you please bring the tea to the sitting room,” Melanie requested.

Dilcey nodded and stepped toward the kitchen, shooing her curious, seven year-old son, Prince, back through the door when she reached the room.

Sadie and Scarlett followed Melanie into the small sitting room, and Scarlett noted Sadie’s immediate interest in the space. It was yet another new experience, viewing the modest home of a commoner in comparison with the Butler mansion–not that Scarlett could ever see Ashley Wilkes as a commoner. Generally, the great homes survived if anything was to survive over time, but now Sadie was able to see how another portion of the population lived, in a home on a spot of land that would be redeveloped near Interstate 75 one day. The space was cozy and homey, much in contrast with the grand rooms of the Butler mansion–though Sadie, herself, said she felt at home there. The two women in Sadie’s company were also in sharp contrast; Scarlett exceedingly decorated, Melanie, simple and plain–and Sadie appearing somewhere in between the two.

“What a pleasant room you have here. I see that your family enjoys reading,” Sadie commented, noting all the books lining shelves about the room.

“Mr. Wilkes more so, but, yes, we all do enjoy books,” Melanie answered, encouraging Scarlett and Sadie to take a seat on the sofa. After removing tatting from a low chair and setting it in a basket on the floor, Melanie sat and placed a small pillow behind her back.

“Well, there’s nothing quite like the escape of a good book–” Sadie paused as if she wasn’t sure she should say what she was about to say next, but went ahead with it. “Forgive me for noticing, but it appeared that you were in some discomfort when you sat down. Are you using the pillow for your back?”

“Pardon?” said Melanie, leaning forward a little to lengthen her spine and prove that there was nothing wrong with her. She never wished for strangers to know of her physical ills.

“Are you supporting your back? Do you have stiffness? Aches? Pain?”

“It’s really nothing–” Melanie replied, shaking her head in denial.

“If you’re having difficulties, I have some stretches that do wonders.”

“Stretches?” Melanie questioned.

“Stretches,” Sadie repeated, “to loosen the muscles. Though I suppose with– And this should help you with support, but–” she rambled while pressing her hands to her sides against the stiff corset. “I can’t show you here and now, but perhaps you’d like to come over to Scarlett’s home one day and I can show you how you can find some relief for the pain–in privacy of course since you can’t be tightly bound up for it. Or I could come here, if you wish. I, myself, need to stretch every day to keep my back in order. We can discuss your diet, too. We might find some solutions there, as well.”

“Why… Thank you,” Melanie replied, surprised but genuinely appreciative of this strange offer. It might be a foolish, awkward endeavor, but maybe, just maybe, Brianne’s knowledge would help provide her with some relief. Anything new was worth a try if it might ease her affliction.

“Pardon me for the brief diversion…but I hate to see anyone in pain, for I’ve dealt with it myself since I was nineteen.”

Melanie bowed her head in thanks.

“So, what dominates your book collection? What is your favorite genre?” asked Sadie.

Scarlett sighed, looking about the room as Dilcey set the tea tray down next to Melanie. Paper. It was just paper. Money thrown away on paper shipped all the way from New York. Paper that might burn up in an instant. Reading an escape? Bah! Ashley and Melanie’s books would soon lead to a harsh reality of hunger and homelessness. Why was Ashley so wasteful with his money? Didn’t he know Melanie’s doctor’s bills were always mounting? Didn’t he want Beau to continue to attend the best schools, as he, himself, had? Well, at least Ashley had promised to dedicate Rhett’s money–what could have been HER money, Scarlett again fumed at the remembrance–to Beau’s education. If only Ashley would apply himself more to his mill and less to these books, maybe he’d have enough money for everything. As it was, he would continue to lose money every week. It wasn’t fair to Melanie or to Beau.

Lost in her shameful thoughts about Ashley, her faultless, beautiful Ashley–Scarlett nearly crossed herself and prayed for forgiveness for the silent disrespect–she had ignored much of the conversation between Melanie and Sadie about literature, their respective backgrounds, Charles Hamilton, and Beau Wilkes, but her ears perked up when Melanie asked, “Your children aren’t with you?”

“My children?” Sadie repeated, turning to Scarlett to gauge if she had somehow misunderstood Brianne’s story.

Scarlett’s expression did not change as she took a sip of her tea. She had not told Melanie about any O’Hara-Hall offspring, but of course Melanie had presumed as only she could. Scarlett and Sadie had determined that Brianne was unable to conceive considering she had been married almost ten years and was still childless to the best of Scarlett’s knowledge. Scarlett couldn’t help but wish that barrenness had been her difficulty. Instead, she had been cursed in the other extreme, with seemingly infallible fertility.       

So, Sadie answered Melanie’s inquiry, correcting the conjecture without a hint of the shame Melanie would have had if she’d had to give a similar answer.

“I don’t have any children.”

“Oh,” answered Melanie, bowing her head in understanding. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just assumed…”

“It’s all right. Don’t feel bad for me. I’m not disappointed,” Sadie responded cheerfully in order to reverse Melanie’s self-reproach.

Melanie raised her eyes in surprise.

“Motherhood isn’t for everyone,” Sadie continued. “I’m very happy with my life as it is. In fact, this would have been my preference, had I been allowed a choice.”

The look that appeared on Melanie’s face nearly caused a laughing outburst from Scarlett; it was priceless. It was an expression of pure shock, as if the entire world had been turned on its head, and Melanie couldn’t hide her horror no matter how hard she tried. Scarlett could already hear the words Melanie would have spoken had the two of them been alone: “Not want a baby! Is she truly a woman?” It was a delicious moment for Scarlett, having another woman speak these thoughts to Melanie, though she was certain that Sadie had no idea of what sort of an impact she had made. Early in the war, Scarlett had grown so tired of Melanie’s longing for and talk of babies. She would have gladly given Wade to her, but Melanie had truly wanted a child of her own. Ashley’s child, Scarlett thought with a frown. Scarlett had always wanted to say the words that had come out of Sadie’s mouth, though she had always been too terrified to speak them to anyone but Rhett. They were considered such unwomanly thoughts, and while she was already fully cloaked with that reputation, Scarlett had not wished to provide any more fuel for the busybodies of Atlanta to light on fire. Also, what good would it have done for her words to return to her children one day? They mustn’t ever know that they were unwanted, for she wanted them now.            

But finally, Scarlett had found someone who understood–and had set Melanie straight that these wishes were equally valid. Perhaps Brianne Hall would not have spoken those exact sentiments, but Sadie wasn’t willing to lose herself completely in the role.

As the morning progressed, Melanie’s shock wore down to only a weak distress, though Scarlett wondered if dear Melly could ever look at Brianne Hall the same way again. Still, Melanie and Sadie seemed to have much else in common. Beyond some similar tastes in books, Sadie took a great interest in Melanie’s current needlepoint, a design consisting of a colorful bouquet of flowers that was to decorate a pillow meant for the sofa, and she was eager to see Melanie’s recently completed projects, requesting that Melanie introduce her to the art of tatting some day, which seemed to her like a more delicate version of hardanger. It also appeared as if Melanie and Sadie held similar beliefs about the importance of volunteering their time for the betterment of the community. Sadie seemed quite fascinated by all of Melanie’s activities and said that Mrs. Wilkes put her own volunteer efforts to shame.

All of this was very yawn inducing for Scarlett–she might have even dozed for a moment or two–but it seemed that Sadie had won points in Melanie’s favor. In the end, the host was able to remain her gracious self and showed Brianne nothing but sweetness, care, and generosity. After all, she was an O’Hara and deserved her love and respect; Brianne was a lovely woman even if her ideas about motherhood were most eccentric.     

After saying their goodbyes that morning with a promise of the Wilkes’ attendance at the Butler’s for supper Wednesday evening, Sadie asked, “Is she for real?” once Scarlett and Sadie had put enough distance between them and the squat house.

“Is who real?”

“Melanie Wilkes. She’s about the nicest person I’ve ever met. I’ve met a lot of people that _try_ to be the nicest person you’ll ever know, but it’s usually not genuine. I can spot a pretender–”

“Oh, can you, now?” quizzed Scarlett in mock disbelief, her eyebrows raised high, referring to Sadie’s mistakes with Scarlett when she arrived in 2011.

“Ha ha,” sung Sadie, catching Scarlett’s tease. “A rare mistake. But, if there’s one thing I can’t stand about people, it’s artificiality…which is why I don’t generally get along with my sister,” she added with reserve. “Melanie Wilkes didn’t seem fake at all.” As she climbed into the finely upholstered buggy, Sadie quietly commented, “It still feels like I’m getting into an amusement park ride.”

“Oh, Melly…” Scarlett sighed at Sadie’s assessment of their host. “You’re taken by her, too? I thought at least you would see–”

Scarlett then cut herself off, realizing that she didn’t even believe her own argument anymore. Ever since Melanie had defended her–choosing Scarlett over even her dearest family members–Scarlett couldn’t hate her, or even really dislike her. Scarlett and Ashley’s recent, innocent actions–and their past guilty ones–had split Melanie’s family and friends into two sides because she had chosen Scarlett over her lifelong supporters, even turning her back on the woman who had raised her.

After they settled themselves and Scarlett took the reins, Scarlett agreed, “Melanie Wilkes is– She’s done me some very great favors, fool that she is… No matter what I’ve said or done, she’s stood by my side through everything. I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t you? It sounds like you’ve stood by her side through everything, too.”

“That’s what Melly likes to tell people.”

“It’s not true? You didn’t stay here during a dangerous time in the war to help her deliver her baby when you could have gone home? You didn’t risk your life and get she and her child–and yours–out of this city to relative safety? You didn’t work day and night in the garden and cotton fields to support everyone? You didn’t find a way to allow for Melanie and her family to remain in her hometown after the war?”

“Yes, I suppose…” Scarlett grudgingly agreed, glancing to her right as they crossed Baker Street, “but I didn’t do it for–”

Scarlett grew silent, only the clomping of the horse’s hooves and the wheels cutting troughs through gritty, cracking mud were making noise. Why should she tell Sadie anything about Ashley? Sadie had already had some suspicions about her marriage to Rhett; adding Ashley into the picture was something Scarlett refused to do. It was too easy to talk to this woman, and if Scarlett weren’t careful, she’d accidentally reveal _all_ her secrets.

“What? What did you do it for?” Sadie probed.

“Nothing,” Scarlett responded as if what she had to say was unimportant. “I just did what had to be done. Melly was my sister-in-law. Beau was my nephew. They were my boy’s family. I couldn’t turn them out. Melly always makes me seem better than I really am.”

Scarlett felt Sadie’s eyes settle on her for a moment, her last comment causing Sadie to go temporarily mute.

“Look, she might be a little innocent, but she seems to judge people fairly. Just look at the way she treated me. I’m not blind or deaf. I could tell how important she thinks motherhood is and how my attitude affected her view of me–as if I were a creature from another planet for not wanting a baby. Believe me, there are still plenty of women in my time that are like her. _What! Not want a baby? I’m sure in time you’ll change your mind–and if you don’t, THEN, there’s something wrong with you,_ ” Sadie mocked a common reaction.

So, Sadie had been aware of Melanie’s feelings, Scarlett realized.

“But, by the time we left her house, I knew that she had decided that she could respect me. She could see the big picture and not just focus in on one tiny aspect of my character. She saw past that and could judge me as a whole.”

“So, she liked you, did she?” Scarlett teased before looking east on Harris.

“You know her best. What do you think?”

“Hmm… I don’t know yet,” answered Scarlett, passing Sadie a playful peek.

“I get the impression that she thinks a lot about both you _and_ Rhett Butler. She had nothing but praise for him. And as I witnessed yesterday, he can come across a bit assholish at times.”

“Hush,” Scarlett ordered, attempting to suppress a smirk, looking around to see if anyone had caught Sadie’s use of a clearly crude word. Yes, Rhett was quite _assholish_ at times, Scarlett thought in agreement, even if she wasn’t completely sure of the definition. Somehow, it just seemed the perfect way to define him!

“Sorry. I know that’s mean of me to say. I would have preferred it not to be true, but I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. It doesn’t mean that he’s not lovable. He’s like a charming _asshole_ ,” Sadie concluded in a whisper. “It’s like he knows he’s being a jerk, but just can’t help himself. And he hopes that you know that he’s joking, too, and can laugh with him…and maybe a little at him. He’s kind of George Clooney-ish.”   

Scarlett didn’t argue Sadie’s viewpoint, though she again had no idea to whom Rhett was being compared. Sometimes the _charming_ did overrule the other less desirable aspects of Rhett Butler’s character. Though, Scarlett would have liked to reply: “You try to live with him for three-and-a-half years and tell me if his charming side is enough to keep you sane.” However, something told her that Rhett Butler wouldn’t have gotten under Sadie’s skin nearly as often as he’d gotten under her own…

 

After dinner at the house, the remainder of the afternoon was spent at Kennedy’s General Store on Whitehall Street, where Sadie watched Scarlett work her magic with the staff and customers. She was in an unusually good mood today, so her charm was on full display, though the employees seemed to be a little on edge, waiting for the other, more temperamental, Scarlett Butler to emerge. Though, as they had discussed when Scarlett was out of earshot, she was unlikely to have an outburst today in front of her new cousin; however, that reasoning did not always hold up when she was in the presence of her husband or children.

Sadie’s eyes were wide with wonder as she walked the aisles of the store, exploring as if Brianne Hall had never stepped foot inside a general goods store before. Scarlett had to lightly pinch her a few times, reminding her of whom she was portraying. Surely they had general goods stores in Chicago.

Later, when they were in the privacy of Scarlett’s small office, Sadie said, “I have an old photograph from the nineteen-thirties of my grandma–my mom’s mom–and her brother standing in the middle of a store he owned; one a lot like this one: a set of dining ware on one of the front tables, a bin of what looked like baseball bats, large metal pails under another table, shelves along the walls of the store packed all the way up to the ceiling with who-knows-what, and what I figured were tall rolls of wallpaper in the back. Grandma was his bookkeeper for decades throughout the store’s various incarnations and locations. It’s almost like getting to step into their world. It was pretty great of him to own something like this starting in his twenties. Though, I guess you’re in your twenties, too. Eventually, he became mayor. Are you going to become mayor, too?” Sadie teased.

“Only you would know…” Scarlett replied with a roll of her eyes.

If Sadie was impressed with the store, Scarlett knew she, herself, had everything to do with it. Compared to what she had found when visiting Frank Kennedy’s store for the first time, Scarlett had made countless improvements, removing the wooden awnings during the late fall and winter seasons to let the natural daylight in, having larger windows put in for even more light and display purposes, and removing the sawdust from the floors to reveal the level wooden boards; and recently the store was blessed with new shingles. When Sadie noted the smart layout of the store, she wondered if Scarlett had learned from her time spent in 2011 the technique of placing the everyday staples in the back and “thneeds”, as she called them, in the front. Scarlett admitted that this technique had been brought to her attention by Carolyn one day when they were shopping at a store where one had to trudge all the way to the back of the building for the milk and eggs, walking past temptations such as baked goods, chocolate, and aromatic marshmallows along the aisle. This system had in fact increased Scarlett’s store profits in the last month. The store and its success owed much to Scarlett’s feminine touch and, more recently, to her ability to apply such details from the future.                 

And despite Scarlett’s valid concerns about letting a twenty-first century companion loose in 1871, it turned out that Sadie was fitting in very well with the nineteenth century–and the Butler family. As the week went on, Miss Grier was able to remain focused on what she did best, which was to observe rather than engage; and that, in turn, made her less vulnerable to exposure or mistakes. Scarlett discovered that Sadie was a rather quiet person when surrounded by more than one or two people, especially when in the company of strangers; she preferred being a spectator rather than a participant. Scarlett had assumed that Sadie was fully immersing herself in the role of Brianne O’Hara, using what they knew of her with great skill, but when Scarlett had complimented her on it, Sadie replied: “No, that’s just how I usually am.”

That wasn’t to say that Sadie was unlikely to have lively discussions when a subject interested her and Scarlett was beginning to think that one of her favorite subjects was Rhett Butler.

During Sadie’s first few days out of hiding, Scarlett had on more that one occasion walked in on conversations between she and Rhett, conducted in French, each apparently glad to have a partner with whom to practice the language. Sadie would kindly switch to English when Scarlett returned to the room after being called away for one house matter or another, so that she could rejoin the conversation, though Scarlett thought Rhett seemed a little reluctant to do so. Scarlett noted that most of their conversations had centered on travel and their opinions of such places as Paris, Vienna, and London. Surprisingly, Sadie was able to remain vague enough in her opinions on contemporary hotels, restaurants, and theaters–“It really was all a blur, and I have the worst time remembering names”–while being specific when it came to historic sites that had been around for centuries–“How could one ever forget the interior beauty of Sainte-Chapelle?”–without creating much suspicion. It was made clear that Brianne’s interest was in the past, not so much in the present, and she had focused on what was most important to her when abroad.

Sadie seemed very interested in expanding on the details of Rhett’s history that had come out during Scarlett’s initial introduction. _Brianne_ was very complimentary of the city of Charleston, where her father, Brian, had once taken her when she was young, praising it as one of the most beautiful American cities she had ever seen. She was curious how Rhett felt about growing up there. While he surprised her with the revelation that he had very little love for the city, Rhett had agreed with her on some of its merits, such as its architecture and the nearness to water, which was the same reason why _Brianne_ had fallen in love with Stockholm, Sweden.

Stockholm. London. Vienna. Paris. It would be easier to name the places that _Brianne Hall_ hadn’t visited, Scarlett decided with exasperation.

Sadie even asked Rhett about his time at the prestigious West Point, wondering if he had known any of the famous graduates. While no one notable had been in his class, Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, George McClellen, and George Pickett had been in attendance when he entered the military academy. And Lee, Sherman, and Grant had graduated long before Rhett had arrived at the campus overlooking the Hudson River. Sadie quizzed him about what he had studied–engineering–and how he had liked it there–he hadn’t.

She was fascinated by the news of Rhett’s expulsion. Sadie had known through various accounts that Rhett Butler had attended, but had not graduated from West Point, though she had not heard the expulsion story before and couldn’t help but ask him the reason for his dismissal.

“I heard it was over drunkenness and women,” Scarlett assisted before giving Rhett a superior, but playful glance. “Would you care to broaden our understanding?”

He returned an amused look, but remained mute.

“Too embarrassed to expand on that rumor?” Sadie added in challenge.

“Not at all,” began Rhett’s affable reply, eyeing the co-conspirators. “But Scarlett seems to have the general idea. I see no reason for further illumination,” he concluded before falling silent on the subject.

Rhett was more vocal when it came to a discussion about his grandfather, the man Rhett had always described as ‘the pirate’. Rhett revealed his admiration for this man that he never had a chance to meet, but admitted that that regard probably had more to do with his grandfather being the polar opposite of Rhett’s own father rather than anything that the man had accomplished. However, his grandfather had amassed a large fortune in his relatively short lifetime, which one could not overlook.

“When? What years was he active in piracy?” Sadie wondered.

“I suspect he began in the late seventeen-eighties.”

“Long after the heyday,” Sadie reacted.

“The heyday?” Rhett asked.

“The golden age of piracy: the seventeen-tens and twenties.”

At that moment, Scarlett couldn’t help but secretly roll her eyes at the thought of having two piracy experts in her sitting room, the younger of the two petting Blackbeard, the kitten, as he was curled up beside her on the sofa between she and Scarlett. How fitting. And how was it that Sadie had been able to make Rhett open up about his history like this in two days? He was normally so guarded.

“I’ve always been impressed with the life of pirates at that time–and the Vikings long before that–or I suppose, more specifically, their societies. I don’t agree with theft whatsoever, so while I find their method of income objectionable, they had a very democratic community during those years. I do admire that desire for equality.”

“The articles of agreement,” offered Rhett. “Pirate code.”

Sadie nodded.

“Every man or woman had a vote. Did you know that there had been female pirates?” Sadie said, specifically turning to Scarlett. “There weren’t many, of course, but there are records that prove there were some. Every pirate had a vote, no matter what his or her country or culture of origin was, and at the time, they were all fairly compensated in food, fortune, and respect as long as they performed their duties. I’m afraid, Mr. Butler, that your grandfather probably was not fortunate enough to experience this society during his time. I do believe he missed out on a brief time of true democracy in the profession–unless he preferred being the one in complete command?”

“How else do you think he accumulated his wealth?” Rhett joked, receiving amused chortle from Sadie in return.

“True. True…”

To Scarlett, it appeared that Rhett could only look at Sadie in admiration after this conversation, witnessing how educated and knowledgeable–and enjoyable–Brianne O’Hara Hall was in so many areas. It somewhat fit Brianne’s profile, being the daughter of an educator, but Scarlett didn’t like it. While Sadie had not set out to impress Rhett in this manner, that’s exactly how Scarlett saw it. Scarlett was beginning to feel like she did when in Melanie and Ashley Wilkes’ company, when they discussed things that she did not understand or care about, making her feel nearly invisible. In a way, she even felt as she had when Rhett and Bonnie were entertaining each other, both in their own little world. Though, Scarlett had to admit that Sadie always gave an effort to involve her in every discussion; Sadie was not shutting her out as her husband had. Still, Scarlett much preferred Sadie’s company when apart from the seemingly captivated Rhett Butler. And she preferred Rhett’s company when not in the presence of their guest.

She was glad whenever she could whisk Sadie out of the house and they could be alone and away from Mr. Butler. Even though Scarlett began to suffer midweek from the feminine complaints that Sadie said she had coming right around the corner, Scarlett was still was able to take short stretches of time to drive Sadie around the city to view Atlanta circa 1871. Sadie had once lived in a town up north with homes and buildings of this era that had included a few existing–but useless–carriage blocks, but there was not such a consistency or supply as she was exposed to, now.

She claimed that the present-day men looked surprisingly similar to many of their modern counterparts, labeling them all _hipsters_ with their long unkempt beards and mustaches–a look she did not find at all attractive. Matt Barnes, Sadie’s significant other, did not possess the facial hair of these men, but he did share a similar voice to some. Once, Sadie heard a gentleman’s voice and paused to ask him if he was in fact from Alabama and he confirmed it.

“Oh, I miss his voice,” Sadie sighed to herself after she and Scarlett departed the man’s company. She hadn’t spoken much of Matt since she’d been here, but it was clear that she missed him.

At times, when Sadie became overly animated about the sights and sounds on their excursions, Scarlett had to draw her back to reality. Yes, it was a new city for Brianne Hall to explore, but after supposedly having been in Paris, Atlanta was really nothing to grow too excited about. And that was true, mostly, but Sadie loved old Victorian architecture and there was so much more of it here, now, than in 2011, where Scarlett’s home was the exception. Sadie apologized for her eagerness, jokingly describing her overzealous reactions as having “architectural orgasms”.

There was that word, again, thought Scarlett, recalling that Jessica Chandler, Sadie’s formerly-pregnant receptionist, had used the word in some capacity when describing the conception of a boy versus a girl. Scarlett was still naïve as to its definition, and again, didn’t request an explanation out of embarrassment. It must have meant _interest_ , _enthusiasm_ , or _outburst_ or something; not that she knew what those had to do with conceiving a baby. She, herself, had conceived a boy, and she certainly had not been enthusiastic about any of it.

Yes, Sadie had been very enthusiastic about the town as it appeared in 1871, though she did have a few complaints about this time. And her main grievance, since getting out of the house, had to do with the muddy roads created by the elements common during this time of the year. The seasonal mud was giving her frustration for she always seemed to accidentally get her shoes and the hems of her dresses stuck in the mucky mess because she didn’t always pay attention to where she was placing her feet.

She was apologizing to Scarlett about the thin layer of mud coating her hem, still seeing them as borrowed clothes, when they stepped into a pharmacy near the intersection of Pryor and Hunter streets.

The _cousins_ had stopped in to collect a variety of pain relievers for Sadie in preparation for the upcoming week; some physical discomfort had already begun. Sadie asked that anything derived of opium be “off the table” even though morphine was still utilized for severe pain in 2011. It was a true victor among pain relievers, but Sadie didn’t want to literally be climbing the walls while under the influence of it. She did not want to experiment with laudanum either. She couldn’t, or didn’t choose to hold much liquor, and she certainly couldn’t handle narcotics. Instead, she suggested acquiring some herbal remedies at the pharmacy. Surely, the druggist would have some elixirs containing red raspberry leaf, ginger, black cohosh, valerian, wild yam, or yarrow.

The interior of the drugstore was dominated by darkly stained pine and glass cases and shelves along the walls containing large clear and amber glass bottles of every concoction known to man at this time. In the modern, suspicious mind of Sadie, she assumed that half of these miracle cures were either poisonous or ineffective since there was no proper research or governmental regulation, but it seemed that some herbal remedies had stood the test of time, even if they only provided minor relief.

Sadie’s apologies about her muddy dress as she followed Scarlett into the building went unnoticed, for after Scarlett’s eyes adjusted to the dark space, she caught sight of Belle Watling at the counter handing the druggist several small coins. After retrieving her package, she turned toward the door, lifting the hood of her cape over her unnaturally red curls. Scarlett remained frozen just a few steps inside the doorway. Once Belle made recognition of the first figure blocking the door, she mirrored the look on Scarlett’s face. Both seemed to glare at each other, the equal message being: “You took Rhett away from me. How dare you?” Scarlett had initially expected a defiant expression, though when she analyzed the very familiar look in Belle’s eyes, she knew it as jealously, not realizing that her own eyes transmitted the same emotion. Scarlett smirked subtly, remembering that Rhett had been home most nights in the months since she had returned from the future. Could it be that he had given up Belle and had settled back into faithful domestic life? Maybe Scarlett had won in the end and he was through with Belle Watling. Scarlett could almost taste the sweetness of victory.

Her green eyes sparkled triumphantly at the thought, snidely passing Belle a look of false sympathy. Subtly raising her left hand, she pulled her glove off to intentionally expose her wedding band as if to say: “I’m his wife. You’re nothing to him,” though a slight fear grew in Scarlett’s chest when a brief, murderous expression passed over Belle Watling’s face. But then Belle momentarily dropped her eyes, as if realizing she had no true right to be jealous of Scarlett Butler. She had no legal claims to Scarlett’s husband. Her rational thoughts, no matter how disappointing, settled her wrath and Belle raised her eyes, holding her head up with pride before advancing to the exit. Scarlett stepped to her right as she yanked off her other glove, allowing her nemesis to pass, a heavy scent of perfume left behind in Belle’s wake.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Sadie spoke respectfully while stepping to the side, the ring of the bell and a rush of cool air signaling to Scarlett that Miss Watling had departed.

“Who was that?” Sadie immediately whispered, coming into Scarlett’s field of vision from the right.

Of course she had noticed, Scarlett lamented. She notices everything!

“No one,” Scarlett answered hastily.

“That’s not _no one_. That was like the standoff in _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_.”

“I don’t have any idea of what you’re talking about,” said Scarlett, walking toward the counter to request a variety of anodynes–and halt the inquiry. “Go look around while I speak to the druggist,” Scarlett requested over her shoulder.

Sadie eyed her suspiciously, but agreed to the request and sauntered away. Scarlett knew the subject hadn’t been buried, but at least it could be put to bed for a brief period while she made the order…and it might give her time to make up an excuse for the friction between she and Belle Watling. Scarlett certainly didn’t want to have this discussion here.    

Once the young sandy-haired druggist’s clerk stepped out of the back room, he spotted Sadie looking in a case filled with soaps, shaving foam, and straight razors, he approached her, asking if he could help her with anything.

“No, thank you. I’m only looking.” She then pointed to a razor and commented, “My husband uses one like this. He’s off in Europe right now, and you wouldn’t believe it, but he forgot his razor at home when he left! And if he wasn’t able to purchase a new one, he must have had quite a beard by the time he reached the Continent.”

Scarlett smiled at the scene and the amused clerk, realizing that Sadie was having fun with her role. But, then the druggist asked Scarlett another question, causing her to lose track of Sadie’s conversation…

“I’m new to town–just visiting some relatives, actually. I’m very impressed with what I’ve seen of your city, and I must add, _fascinated_ ,” Sadie ended on a quiet note, beginning a very productive inquiry. “That woman that was just in here…I’ve never seen hair that color before–so red!” she lied; everyone in 2011 had seen every hair color known to humanity, especially someone in Sadie’s profession. “She must naturally be a brunette. Do you sell her hair dye here?”

“You must be speaking of Miss Watling,” the clerk determined in a near whisper, his cheeks reddening. “No, I don’t believe she purchases that from us.”

“Miss Watling, you say? She seemed very interesting. May I inquire why a woman would have such a bold hair color?”

The clerk leaned forward, compelled to inform this newcomer about one of Atlanta’s most notorious citizens–in the most delicate of ways, of course, for he was clearly speaking to a lady…

When Scarlett was finished paying for the pain remedies she noticed Sadie and the clerk in deep conversation, though when Scarlett caught the young clerk’s eye, he drew back as if he suddenly had nothing more to say to Sadie and his cheeks reddened. What on earth could they have been discussing? Scarlett wondered as she slipped her gloves back on. Hopefully Sadie’s modern self hadn’t been put too much on display, and her general interest hadn’t been perceived as flirting. Was Scarlett going to have to keep her older _cousin’s_ behavior in check?

“Have you seen all that you wished to see?” Scarlett asked, after accepting the freshly wrapped package from the druggist, turning her head in Sadie’s direction.

“Oh, yes, all that and more,” she replied cryptically. “Thank you,” Sadie directed at the clerk. “You’ve given me a very good introduction to Atlanta.”

The clerk nodded, clearly uncomfortable with Mrs. Butler’s appearance at such a time, spotting the wife after having just enlightened the woman’s relative about the mistress.

“Shall we go?” asked Scarlett.

Sadie nodded.

Once they exited the pharmacy, Sadie said, “I know who she is.”

“You know who _who_ is?” Scarlett asked innocently; Belle’s appearance had somehow been wiped from her mind at the moment.

“That woman in the drugstore. She’s a madam. She runs a house of prostitution. I don’t know why that was so hard for you to tell me, but you obviously didn’t want me to know anything about her. You know my generation isn’t so sheltered. It would be difficult to find one of us that doesn’t know what a prostitute is. I don’t see what the problem was?”

“God’s Nightgown!” thought Scarlett, reminded of the stare down with her nemesis. Of course the resourceful Sadie found out about Belle Watling with little trouble at all. If only that clerk would have kept his mouth shut! Well, he’d receive the cold shoulder from her the next time she was in the store. Scarlett sped up her pace leaving Sadie a few steps back. Turning her head to glance behind her, Scarlett hushed her and continued walking briskly to try to escape this discussion. She remained mute as they proceeded down the brick sidewalk like a two-person, double-time parade toward her buggy. All Scarlett needed was a decorative mace in her hand and she would have been mistaken for the drum major.

“You know, she’s the first one I’ve ever seen in person…at least that I know of,” said Sadie once her longer legs caught up to Scarlett’s. “I guess I _was_ more sheltered than you. I’d forgotten that it’s been pretty much legal during your life.”

Scarlett nearly leapt up into her buggy, as if it could shield her from this conversation and the onlookers who might have caught Sadie’s indecent words; words that a lady should not even know, let alone speak. Sadie followed, frustrated with having to clumsily climb over Scarlett, though she wasn’t about to step out in the muddy street to reach her side of the seat.

“So, what is it with you and Belle Watling?” Sadie inquired simply once settled.

“Absolutely nothing,” said Scarlett, taking the reigns. “I think women like that are vile and vulgar and I don’t want to have anything to do with them,” Scarlett added, though what she really meant was that the men who patronized women like Belle were the truly vile and vulgar ones. “And I won’t speak of it any more.”

“I don’t get what the big deal–”

“No. No more. And if you continue to press this,” Scarlett interrupted, “why, I’ll– I’ll throw all these remedies into your beloved mud and they can be trampled by the horses. You’ll not be able to purchase more without any money. And you don’t have a cent in your reticule.”

Scarlett was holding the brown paper package up in front of her as if she were about to fling it into the center of the street.

“Oh, no you don’t,” responded Sadie, desperately reaching for the package and ripping it from Scarlett’s fingers. Scarlett’s scream of annoyance followed, her mouth hanging open. And a small crowd formed after that; interested in catching a glimpse of this juvenile row, especially when it involved someone like the high and mighty Scarlett Butler. Sadie sat back down, tucking the package underneath her left leg, out of the reach of Scarlett; their cheeks flushed with embarrassment for acting like two twelve-year-old girls fighting over a bonnet. The scene was very familiar to Scarlett, only now Sadie had replaced Suellen O’Hara in the match-up.

“Overreacting much?” Sadie remarked quietly out the side of her mouth.

“As if you weren’t,” Scarlett retorted, turning her full attention to her buggy-mate.

Once they finally drew their eyes from each other after their own personal standoff and turned their attention to the sidewalk, the onlookers dispersed, realizing that the entertainment was over. Scarlett and Sadie were relieved. Though, one face remained fixed on them for a little while longer with heightened interest in the new O’Hara. Belle Watling had just exited the tobacco shop next door in time to catch the physical struggle, Scarlett’s scream, and the minor subsequent stare down. She smiled defiantly at Scarlett before turning down the sidewalk toward Whitehall, noting that Scarlett had been the loser in the struggle.

Scarlett huffed at the sight of Belle. She hated, Hated, HATED her! Though what she truly hated was Rhett’s relationship with the woman. And to have Belle witness such a childish scene… She would probably run to Rhett and remind him of what a child he had married and say that it was no wonder he didn’t want to share Scarlett’s bed anymore. She realized that just because Rhett was spending most nights at the house didn’t mean that he had stopped seeing Belle. Scarlett growled in frustration at the thought, loud enough for Sadie to take note.

“Who is she?” Sadie asked directly. “This is clearly personal. What has she done?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Scarlett answered resiliently. She released the brake and followed it up with a cluck to the horse.

The buggy jerked into motion.

“Who is she?” Sadie repeated as they rolled toward Whitehall.

Scarlett hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone about Belle Watling. She had wanted to pretend that Belle didn’t exist. Of course everyone knew about Rhett and Belle. It was no secret, but somehow, Scarlett wanted to pretend that none of it was true. It made it easier to stand, somehow.

When they reached the corner of Hunter and Whitehall, Belle Watling was just about to step off the curb to cross to the southeast when Scarlett’s horse cut close enough to cause her to withdraw, as if Scarlett would have no qualms in running her down. Sadie twisted her neck, meeting Belle’s angry eyes as the tall woman watched Scarlett’s buggy head in the direction of Alabama Street.

“Who is she?” Sadie asked in desperation, realizing the extent of Scarlett’s dangerous emotions.

“Rhett lives with her,” Scarlett finally spewed out under duress. There, she had said it. She had confessed her knowledge of this most horrible situation to someone else besides her own husband. For a moment, Scarlett thought she would feel lighter with this verbal acknowledgement, but she didn’t. And Sadie’s initial reaction did not help any: Sadie laughed with diversion after realizing what Scarlett had implied.

“Oh, come on!” Sadie commented in disbelief. “He’s having an affair? And with a prostitute? No way. Impossible. That’s _so_ not funny that it’s funny. What’s your real beef with her?” Sadie briefly glanced to her left and quietly repeated with a chuckle, “Lives with her…”

Scarlett’s face twisted up sourly in response, her eyes squinting as the sun peeked out of a cloud overhead. She had just revealed a secret, one that she had never wanted Sadie to know, and now the woman didn’t believe her?

“What is it? Did she trip you on the street once? Did she call you a name? Did she splash your skirt with mud? Did she steal from your store?”

“No!” Scarlett stressed before drawing her sad eyes away from Sadie’s to again focus on the road as they neared the busy train depot.

After a long stretch of silence, Sadie spoke again.

“I don’t believe it,” she said quietly. “I honestly don’t believe it.”

“Well, it’s true,” Scarlett bluntly answered. “And you’re making this more embarrassing for me, for not believing it,” she concluded in a pout, slowly realizing that she could play the victim in this circumstance. Maybe the hero that Sadie had clearly admired could tumble from his pedestal. Sadie didn’t need to know that Scarlett had banished Rhett from her bedroom. Rhett could play the villain in this version of the tale.

“But, how can that be? I know that he–” Sadie cut herself off. She had almost said something on a subject that she had made off limits in her set of time travel rules, rules that had transferred over from Scarlett’s time in 2011. Sadie did not want to be the butterfly that caused a hurricane. Though, was she possibly entering a tropical storm right at this moment? “Why would he do something like that?”

“He was with her long before he married me,” Scarlett revealed, as if that would explain it.

“What does that matter?” Sadie asked, disappointment creeping into her voice. “You’re his wife. You’re the one he chose. You’re not saying this was some sort of marriage of convenience for him, are you? I wouldn’t believe it even if you said it was. I thought you told us that you and he were friends for a long time before you married. Surely you had a strong relationship. Surely he respected you and the institution enough not to fool around.” She paused for a moment, remembering more of Scarlett’s original story. “But you said something about him not wanting to get married. And you didn’t want to get married either… You never answered me about that. Why did you marry if neither of you wanted this marriage? I was joking about the pregnancy, but did things get out of hand? Were you really pregnant at the time? Did you need to marry for appearance’s sake?”

“No!” Scarlett stressed. “It was nothing like that.”

“What _was_ it like?”

Scarlett glanced over, noting Sadie’s deep interest.

“Rhett proposed to me soon after my second husband died. I had no idea that such a declaration was coming. He truly didn’t want to get married. He said he wasn’t that sort of man. And after all the years– I believed him.”

“Why did he propose, then, and do something against his character?”

“I don’t know. I think he just…he just wanted me. And he knew he couldn’t have me any other way.”

“You’re talking… _intimately_?” Sadie asked quietly, coincidentally posing the question near the National Hotel where Rhett had _had_ Scarlett for the first time.

Scarlett subtly nodded her head, but did not speak a word, the subject tinting her cheeks more than the brisk air.

“A man, even in this day and age, gets married for only that? I don’t believe it. He doesn’t seem like the type of person that would commit his entire life to something like that for _that_. And now that he has _that_ , why does he have to continue his relationship with _her_?” Sadie asked confusedly, twisting her body to look behind her as if she would still able to spot the cloaked Belle Watling past the buildings of Five Points, the train depot, and all the way down Whitehall.

“Men are like that, aren’t they?” Scarlett replied, feeling that it was only a partially false assumption. Until she had met Rhett Butler, she had never presumed that men strayed from their wives or went to bad women. If the men from the County had conducted their lives in this manner during her youth, she had never been aware of it. Her father hadn’t strayed, had he? He had worshipped Ellen O’Hara. She couldn’t imagine Dylan Connolly being unfaithful to Carolyn. But Scarlett had never forgotten Rhett’s words: _It’s a wonder I haven’t strayed long ere this. I never held fidelity to be a Virtue_. It had been inevitable. Rhett would have returned to Belle someday, maybe not as soon as he had, had Scarlett allowed him to remain close to her, but he would have strayed someday; Scarlett was certain of it. Rhett had convinced her of it himself.

“No. Men aren’t always like that,” Sadie answered sullenly. “That dirty dog…” she said quietly, her eyes still fixed on the mucky road peeling away behind them.

 

Feeling confident that Sadie was fully on her side, Scarlett immediately encouraged Sadie not to let this knowledge affect her behavior toward Rhett when they arrived at the mansion on Peachtree Street. Her critical opinion of the Belle Watling-Rhett Butler relationship was transparently clear. While it would have been a most priceless sight to witness Sadie ranting at Rhett over his ungentlemanly treatment of his wife, it certainly wouldn’t do to add conflict to the situation at hand. The moment that she cursed at him, Rhett would likely tell Brianne Hall that she was no longer welcome in the home, and with that, Sadie’s chances of returning to 2011 would be slim to none.

Sadie agreed to Scarlett’s request, though she couldn’t completely hold back at supper that night when Rhett announced that he would be attending a political meeting after the conclusion of their meal. When Sadie learned that it was to be a gathering in support of the Democrats, she let the information slowly simmer, analyzing the news through an historical lens, and her eyes dimmed. Her irritation could have just as easily been provoked by politics, but Scarlett knew Sadie’s attitude was absolutely influenced by what she had learned today. If it had only been about politics, Sadie would have been a bit more prudent with her words or she would have kept her mouth shut completely, adhering to Brianne Hall’s quiet personality.

“You surprise me, Mr. Butler. In general, you seem much more progressive than that–though maybe I’ve greatly misjudged your character,” Sadie began icily. “Perhaps you’re not as wise as I thought you were. Why put your efforts into returning to something that will not work in the future? It’s a very corrupt and outdated way of looking at the world. Though, of course that won’t deter some people from holding onto that way of life for a very, very long time. I wonder, sometimes, if it will ever end…” she reflected, clearly thinking of her own time. “But, I assumed that someone like you would choose to move forward and not be stuck in the old ways.”

Scarlett had nearly spit out her mouthful of wine at that statement when she saw Rhett’s face twitch, knowing how much it had probably irked Rhett to be compared to a gentleman of the old school like his father. Sadie knew Rhett very well, for not really knowing him at all. She knew where to stick the needle in and make it sting.

“And in this case, the old ways will never benefit society as a whole. A smart man once said that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result was the definition of insanity–unless you would prefer the same unjust, stale and tired result?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in question. “Maybe you do prefer the old ways, but I hope I’ve been mistaken; I’d like to think of you as a rational, forward-thinking man, Mr. Butler.” Before Rhett had even one moment to get a word in edgewise, Sadie stood and excused herself before her favorite course of the meal–the dessert–was to be served.

“What ruffled her feathers today?” Rhett asked Scarlett, a bit stunned after returning to his seat.

“I’m not sure what it could have been,” she replied innocently, as if she were just as confused as he, though she had been itching to coldly answer: “You and Belle.”

“I’ll be sure to check on her later,” Scarlett continued, noting concern and confusion in her son’s eyes. “She said she was tired. Perhaps she is feeling unwell, too. That might explain her conduct.”

Rhett studied Scarlett’s expression, possibly searching for a clue she had kept hidden, but Scarlett kept her mask on during his examination until he conceded.

“What I do know for certain is that she won’t be supporting the Democratic ticket during the next election. I must remember never to mention politics in her presence again for fear of the lecture I shall receive,” Rhett decided, following it up with a chuckle. “She’s certainly not afraid to tell me what she thinks of me. She’s your family, all right.”

“And she’ll stand by me just as if she were family,” thought Scarlett, amused that Sadie was succeeding at fooling Rhett Butler into believing she was a nineteenth century O’Hara, and wondered if she couldn’t get a few tips from Sadie Grier. It was slightly annoying that Sadie could fool him so easily while she, herself, rarely could–though she seemed to be getting better at it.

Earlier, she had wished that her confession to Sadie about Rhett and Belle would have taken the burden of the situation away from her; but it hadn’t. Now, she did feel a little lighter, as if Sadie had been able to take up the torch for her; a torch she had never been able to pick up for herself. Though, honestly, Sadie hadn’t been able to pick it up any more than she had, for the truth still remained unspoken, veiled in an argument about political beliefs. But it helped to have another female on her side. The remaining female society of Atlanta certainly believed that Scarlett had brought her husband’s infidelity on herself.

Scarlett noticed that Rhett had grown quiet, as if he really were questioning his recent choices. When had she ever seen him unsure of himself? He never seemed to waver. She knew why he had gone down this political path–Bonnie and his reputation–certainly not for his true political beliefs, if he indeed had any. Rhett knew his reasons, too, but now he must have wondered how his choices appeared through someone else’s eyes, someone who was from outside this society. What Sadie, or Brianne, thought about his character shouldn’t have mattered to him, but it seemed as if it had.

 

Later that evening, after Rhett had departed and the children were in bed, Scarlett dismissed the servants and collected Sadie from the guestroom. Tonight would be their first chance to examine the staircase and determine a plan of action.

“I’m sorry about tonight–at supper,” Sadie whispered as they made their way down the dim hall in their wrappers–Scarlett’s a colorful chintz, Sadie’s a brown gingham. “I should have known better to keep my mouth shut. I promise, it won’t happen again. I’ll be back to the pleasant and cordial Brianne Hall by tomorrow morning at the breakfast table and make amends. I might even have to actually apologize to your husband for my little rant, despite his rat bastard ways.”

Scarlett quietly chuckled at Sadie’s description.

“He almost had me convinced that he was just a charming asshole instead of a bona fide super-rat asshole. Yet, he’s so frickin’ sweet with those kids…” Sadie said, exposing her vacillating opinion of Rhett Butler. “I’d nearly forgotten how he decided what you can and cannot wear or how to do your hair. He orders you around and then he steps out on you? I can’t figure him out,” whispered Sadie, still immersed in bewilderment. “I don’t want to hate him,” she confessed as they neared the balustrade above the staircase.

“Why?” asked Scarlett, surprised by the comment. “Because you won’t be able to say anything nice about him on your tours anymore?” Scarlett logically wondered, though because she hadn’t been allowed on Sadie’s tours, she wasn’t quite sure what Sadie had ever said about Rhett.

Sadie paused, resting her hands on the railing before them and looked down toward the entrance hall. Then she returned her attention to Scarlett and answered, “Yeah, something like that. I can’t hate him. But I can hate what he’s done. You know, _hate the sin, love the sinner_? That sort of thing.”

Scarlett nodded, understanding the general meaning. Her mother had often repeated something similar: _“Have love for mankind, but not for its sins.”_

Sadie sighed.

“Part of me wishes that I’d never come here. I’m becoming disillusioned.” She sighed a second time and continued, “I can’t have a dog in this fight. I’m supposed to be the impartial observer. The neutral party. Switzerland, if you will. If I have any hope of leaving here without influencing your life’s path, I can’t have much of an opinion on anything.”

Scarlett eyed her with suspicion. Sadie keeping her opinion to herself? What a pleasant thing that would be–but of course it was never going to happen. “Too good to be true,” thought Scarlett. “She’ll never be able to do it.”

“Well,” continued Sadie, “let’s check out these stairs.” She worked her way around the upper hall’s railing and whispered as she slowly made her way down to the landing, “Maybe we should have brought a tape measure or something. A protractor… A caliper… A compass… A scale…” she continued, listing an item for each step that she took.

“Will you stop it!” hissed Scarlett.

It was rather dark, but Scarlett thought she saw Sadie’s cheek dimple as if she had expected that particular reaction.

Sadie waited on the landing for Scarlett to join her before speaking again. “So, this is where it happened. This is where you were before joining us in twenty eleven.”

Scarlett nodded as they stood at the edge of the dark precipice, looking down to where Peggy, Dylan, James, Jennifer, and Sadie had surrounded her that fateful day.

“You originally told Dylan that you’d had an argument with your husband before you fell. Is that true?”

Scarlett looked at Sadie, then looked away, swallowing with difficulty, and nodded her head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to even think about it.”

“No…but it’s all right,” said Scarlett calmly, returning her eyes to the woman standing to her left.

“What happened? Wait. No,” Sadie interrupted herself, holding up her hand. “I don’t think I want to know. I don’t think I could bear the details. I think I’ve had all I can take today ever since our visit to the pharmacy. Can we just plot out where you were standing and how you fell and leave it at that?”

Scarlett nodded, grateful not to be asked to rehash the still-raw details of that day. This was going to difficult enough.

“I was here,” Scarlett said, moving around Sadie to lean her back against the banister. If they were going to recreate this scenario, Scarlett needed to begin at position one. “If you’d…” she began, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of her, encouraging Sadie to take the position. Once Sadie was directly in front of her, she continued, “You’re where Rhett was standing. And then he turned toward those steps,” she pointed to the short set they had just descended, waiting for the immobile Sadie to move in that direction to play Rhett’s part. Recognition finally came into Sadie’s eyes and she moved a little toward the steps. “Then, I tried to hit him,” Scarlett confessed ashamedly, realizing if she hadn’t done that, she would not have fallen. She pushed a thought aside that in about a month and a half she would have been having her baby had she not made this foolish mistake.

Sadie looked at her with disbelief.

“I’m not proud of it, but I did,” Scarlett admitted. “I lifted my arms like this.” She held her forearms up above her shoulders as if to hit Sadie. “Rhett defended himself. He blocked my hands from striking him and it caused me to fall back. My foot slipped. I tried to grab this,” she said, wrapping her hands around the newel post. “I missed and fell backwards, hitting the steps. And, now here we are…”

“You’ve had a turbulent start to your marriage, haven’t you?” Sadie said despondently. “Was it always this physical?”

“Physical?”

“Abusive. Did you use violence and–?”

“Oh. No, I’d never tried anything like that before. And Rhett’s never hit me. Everything was…really too awful to stand that day. Nothing like that had ever happened before…or since.”

A slight fragment of relief registered in Sadie’s expression.

“All right,” she nodded, encouraging Scarlett to trade places with her. “So, if your feet were here and you slipped backwards…” Sadie began, crouching down at the edge of the landing. “It’s too bad my physics skills are a bit rusty. Otherwise, we could do all this with mathematics…” She sat herself down on the top step and spun around so her back was to the staircase, and reached her right hand for the banister, lacing her fingers in the scrollwork. Then, she leaned back, the crown of her head pointing down the stairs as she carefully slid her body down along the first few steps, holding on to the banister for dear life, her left arm bracing her journey against the steps.

“Wait! What are you doing?” exclaimed Scarlett.

She quickly crouched down to hold onto Sadie’s ankles, wondering if Sadie had lost her mind.

“Thanks,” Sadie replied at the gesture. “I suppose to be more accurate, I should be having you do this, but our heights aren’t drastically different, and I could use some traction for my back,” Sadie joked.

“What are you trying to determine?”

“You said you felt the pain in your rib when you first landed. That means one of the steps hit you directly there and probably made first contact. Can you count which step comes closest to my ribs,” she requested.

Scarlett leaned forward and counted.

“None of them, but the third one is touching your waist.”

“You’re counting the landing step?”

“No, it’s the third below the landing. If you count the landing, it’s four.”

“That must be it. You’re a little shorter, so it would make sense that this one is what you landed on.” Sadie wiggled her body slightly north so her ribs leaned against the step. “So, you can still see me? I’m still here?”

“Yes,” Scarlett answered with a smile, realizing what Sadie was asking.

“Well, shoot,” Sadie reacted comically. “I figured it wouldn’t be as easy as that…just making contact with it. Though, I’m glad I didn’t go anywhere. I don’t want to leave yet,” she said, smiling up at Scarlett. “But this has to be it. I think this is the same one that we tripped on to get here. Don’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Scarlett answered with a shrug of the shoulders. “I don’t remember.”

“As I’ve said before, I think you need to pay better attention. It might serve you well one day,” Sadie offered.

She attempted to sit up, grasping at the banister, and ended up struggling, not having been used to wearing a bulky wrapper…or being in this position on a staircase. Scarlett couldn’t help but take a moment to chuckle at the scene before finally stepping in to help, untangling the hem of the wrapper and taking Sadie’s left hand, allowing her to brace her feet on a step above her before she rose with little difficulty.

Scarlett grew tense when Sadie stepped down to place her left toe at the edge of the third step and leaned forward, her hands lining up with the landing perfectly. Scarlett let her breath go when Sadie still remained with her instead of making a jaunt to 1731.

“I think it’s a match,” said Sadie before turning her body to sit on the edge of the landing step. Scarlett joined her and they sat side-by-side, staring down to the dark hall below. “I just hope that step will accept any body part. I’d rather use the cushioniest part of my body, that being my derrière, to instigate the voyage. But I’d like to try other routes even before that. I vaguely remember going down our staircase in a snow suit when I was a child.” Sadie turned to Scarlett. “A snow suit was something we wore over our clothes to play out in the snow and keep ourselves dry. But it was made of a slippery material, and I think we’d slide down the carpeted stairs in them without too many bruises. Part of me thinks my dad also sent us down in a laundry basket…or maybe I’m mixing up my memories.”

“Were your parents trying to kill you?” Scarlett asked with a laugh, picturing little children being thrown down a staircase in a wicker basket.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? I know they’ve always loved me, but I was a bit of a pain for them from day one. I never stopped crying if they left me alone. My mom–a first timer–said she was ready to bring me back to the hospital, leave me there, and never look back. If my parents didn’t set me up at the dinner table with them when they were eating, I would bawl my head off. Seemed I needed lots of attention and lots of mental and visual stimulation. I’m sure you can still see that, like in my last few days of seclusion when I was so bored I nearly screamed to give myself away and end the monotony. I need something to occupy myself or I grow anxious or depressed.”

“Well, I’m glad you have something to occupy your mind again,” said Scarlett as they continued to gaze at the steps pondering Sadie’s route home.

“I’m sorry about today,” Sadie said, breaking through the silence. “I’m sorry I pressed you for information that you’d rather not give. I didn’t have any idea that this was going on. It’s clearly been a rocky time for your marriage. How are you doing under the strain of all of this?”

Scarlett turned her head, surprised by the question. No one ever asked her how she was doing. Well, perhaps Melanie, but it was so routine, Scarlett sometimes wondered if Melanie genuinely cared for a truthful answer. Scarlett had kept her feelings so close to the vest that she doubted she had ever really spoken them aloud. She doubted that she could even articulate them now.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away.

“It has to hurt terribly–having a husband who’s unfaithful. I never realized that about him. Never. I thought he was only ever in–” Again, Sadie cut herself off before she revealed what she knew, or thought she knew, about Rhett and Scarlett Butler. “Please don’t be uncomfortable about this question, but what about your health? How are you on the STD front?”

“The what?”

Sadie combed her fingers through her wavy hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears.

“Sexually transmitted diseases. I suppose you haven’t used protection. If your husband is frequenting someone who is or was a prostitute, he’s setting himself up for trouble. And unfortunately, he’s putting you in jeopardy, too. It’s important that you protect yourself. It’s not like you or he can get tested or anything, now, right?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you–” Scarlett began. Then, she remembered Carolyn Jensen’s lecture about protecting herself after her drunken night at the concert. She remembered her second visit to Dr. Stevens in modern day Atlanta. At both of those times, she had never fully placed Rhett in the context of those discussions, but now she fully connected the dots–and there were plentiful “dots” in Rhett’s past. Recalling Dr. Stevens’ report immediately eased Scarlett’s mind. The doctor had tested her for diseases or infections that might have led to the miscarriage and had found none. This is what Sadie had meant. Apparently, she had dodged a bullet considering Rhett’s history, which he had never chosen to hide.

“No, I’m healthy. Dr. Stevens said I was all right.”

“Dr. Stevens from Emory? She said you were clean?”

Scarlett nodded.

“Good. You’ve either been extremely lucky or you have an insanely robust immune system. Or…he’s been very careful. You’d better hope that continues.”

“Well, it won’t matter anyway–” started Scarlett, before she had a chance to realize what she was saying. However, at this point, what _did_ it matter? “You were right. Rhett and I aren’t sharing a bed anymore,” she whispered as she looked down to her lap.

“Your choice or his?” asked Sadie as if not surprised by this revelation.

“Mine.”

“Because of his infidelity?”

Scarlett paused before deciding on an answer, then nodded her head.

“Yes.”

And the lies continued to roll off her tongue… But, as long as Scarlett had Sadie on her side, she probably could convince her of anything regarding this situation; she would believe Scarlett’s truth above Rhett’s. And what woman wouldn’t banish an unfaithful husband?

“Have you done anything about it? Asked him to stop seeing her?”

“No,” said Scarlett, shaking her head.

“Why haven’t you done anything about it? Why haven’t you gone all Loretta Lynn on this Belle Watling? You know, instead of trying to kill her?” she joked, referencing the incident from earlier in the day.

“Gone all what?”

Sadie brought her knees up and hugged them to her body.

“Why not send a message to Belle Watling? Like this:” she said before beginning to quietly sing, pressing her shoulder to Scarlett’s.

 

_Women like you they’re a dime a dozen you can buy ‘em anywhere_

_For you to get to him, I’d have to move over, and I’m gonna stand right here_

_It’ll be over my dead body, so get out while you can_

_‘Cause you ain’t woman enough to take my man_

 

Scarlett smiled at the familiar lyrics, having listened to the song many times on Sadie’s MP3 player. Oh, wouldn’t she like to say such words to Belle Watling! Belle had clearly believed that she had some claim to her husband. Though, Scarlett wouldn’t dream of sullying herself by even conversing with the woman. And, frankly, she didn’t know what Rhett truly wanted anyway. He mustn’t know that she cared…and so she would have to remain silent.

“Why aren’t you fighting for him?”

“Is he worth fighting for?” Scarlett countered automatically, as if her answer was already _No_.

Sadie appeared to have a very specific answer at the tip of her tongue, but then swallowed it before replying, “I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to answer that for yourself. It’s not up to me, is it?”

Scarlett shook her head. She realized that the thought of battling for Rhett had never crossed her mind. Though, why should it have? He was going to do as he wished and what did it really matter, anyway? There was no love between them. Hadn’t she accepted this arrangement as long as he continued to pay the bills? The thought made her grimace. At one time, that had made her rather happy, but she didn’t feel the same anymore. Somehow everything about that arrangement had seemed wrong to her now; not that she could understand what would make it right again, forgetting the fact that she had been the one to break their agreement, while Rhett continued to keep up his end of the bargain.

“He really married you for the reason you stated earlier?” Sadie asked, disbelief remaining in her voice.

“I don’t see why else.”

“Oh, I don’t know…love, maybe?” said Sadie, using humorous logic.

Scarlett gave a bitter laugh and shook her head.

“He doesn’t love me. He–” She paused, Rhett’s confusing words streaming through her mind:

_For while I like you immensely, I do not love you…I should love you, for you are charming and talented at many useless accomplishments. But many ladies have charm and accomplishments and are just as useless as you are. No, I don’t love you. But I do like you tremendously…_

_I could not love thee, Dear, so much, loved I not Honour more…For I do love you, Scarlett, in spite of what I said that night on the porch last month…_

_No, my dear, I’m not in love with you, no more than you are with me…_

_We could have been happy, for I loved you and I know you, Scarlett, down to your bones…_

“He’s never made any sense,” Scarlett spoke again. “His words and his behavior have always been quite contradictory. I don’t know what he really wants, but if he really loved me… No. You’ll see… Once you’re here long enough, you’ll see that he doesn’t care for me.”

“Oh, come on…” Sadie challenged with exasperation. “I swear, I wasn’t only thrown into the nineteenth century; I was thrown into Bizarro World. And now you’re going to tell me that the only reason you married Rhett Butler was for his money.”

Scarlett remained silent, her eyes guiltily shifting everywhere but in Sadie’s direction as her toes twitched in her mules. Her head tilted further and further away from Sadie’s sightline, finally igniting a frustrated reaction.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Well, money does help,” Scarlett slowly defended after releasing her lower lip from between her teeth. Her marriage choice had not been a crime.

“So much for romance…” Sadie sulked as if all her dreams had been dashed.

Scarlett’s fight returned.

“You ought not judge me on that. You’d be happy to have a wealthy man, too, and you know it. You know what it means for money to be tight. And it’s not as if that were the only reason… People marry for all sorts of reasons, you know? And I did like him–I still do like him…at times. He’s probably the smartest man I know and I’ve always respected him. I could never again have married a man that I didn’t respect. We were friendly and we spent lots of time together over the years. Sometimes… Well, sometimes… There were times, lots of times, when Rhett understood me like no one else ever could have–as if he was the only person I knew who wasn’t a stranger to me. He’s been a better friend to me than almost anyone else in my life. So, you see, I didn’t accept the proposal just for his money. I didn’t need his money. I had enough of my own,” Scarlett concluded proudly.

Her defensive words had spoken volumes, but all the while, Scarlett’s mind had not had the ability to reabsorb them. She had been so determined to prove that she hadn’t only married Rhett for his money, that she had overlooked all her honest arguments; she hadn’t listened to herself. As she viewed it, her comments were only inconsequential words concocted to prove a point. She would remain cursed, blind to her very own vocalized sentiments.

Whether or not Sadie believed Scarlett’s arguments was unclear because she did not make a comment. However, if she had believed them to be lies, she surely would have called Scarlett out on them. Sadie wasn’t one to accept falsehoods.

“You said that you knew he’d been with Belle long before you married.”

Scarlett nodded her head.

“Did he promise to give her up for you?”

“No, but… I just supposed that he would. I don’t know for certain, now…but I don’t think– When we were first married, he was always at home at night.”

“And during the day?”

“I almost always knew where he was. Sometimes I didn’t, but it wasn’t very often.”

“So, what you’re saying is that he was faithful to you for a while?”

Scarlett paused for a moment before giving her instinctual answer.

“I think he was.”

“Until when?”

“Until…until just after Bonnie was born,” Scarlett answered with honest simplicity. Sadie didn’t need to be exposed to any additional details about Scarlett’s part in the timing of this event.

A wry smile formed on Sadie’s lips and her head tilted to the side as she pulled her eyeglasses off in order to squeeze the bridge of her nose.

“How pathetically typical. How cliché,” she slowly expelled before replacing her eyeglasses. “Would it have been so difficult for him to take care of things on his own until you were physically ready?”

Sadie grimaced as if she had wished she had not made that last statement.

Before Scarlett could question Sadie about her meaning, the sound of a key scratched at the door. Sadie rose from the step. “Well, speak of the Devil… He’s home early. Come on,” she said, reaching down for Scarlett’s hand, “I have a headache coming on. Let’s call it a night.”

Scarlett rose with Sadie’s assistance and they immediately turned to ascend the stairs to return to their bedrooms. Both of them had apparently had enough of Rhett Butler for one evening.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate the kind words I have received over the last few months. They really encourage me to keep on plugging along, so thank you! Apologies for not posting in 5 months or so! I am working full time and have decided to take college courses at night, so I really don't have much time for anything fun like fanfiction even though that's where my heart is. This schedule has definitely decreased my time for writing. And I see so many new or continuing stories here in this genre, I wish I had time to catch up on them! They're definitely on my to-read list. So, here it is. It may be a while before I post again, but I promise you, I'm not going to quit until this story is complete. Enjoy!

 

 

Part Two

 

Chapter 24

 

“Another dog?” Rhett asked, puzzled, his brow furrowed.

Scarlett nodded.

“You do realize that this isn’t Tara, don’t you? We don’t have acres and acres for it to roam here.”

“It doesn’t need to roam,” Scarlett countered.

“From the way you describe it, it’ll be as big as Jack. Dogs like that need space. You say it’s a _Bernese_? Spell it,” Rhett requested, unfamiliar with the breed.“Oh… I don’t know. B. U. R.… No. B. E. R. N.…” Scarlett struggled. “Well, it starts out something like that, I suppose.”

“I’m assuming it’s the latter. Where was it that you were introduced to such a breed?”

“In the–” Scarlett paused for a millisecond, realizing she couldn’t quite speak the truth. When did she ever have time in 1871 to lollygag in a park? “–street. Well, really on the sidewalk, just outside my store. A man was passing by with his sons and the dog. It was the most darling thing; I just had to stop them. It sort of reminded me of Jack, but he was much handsomer with a white chest and a soft black and rusty coat, and a more pointed muzzle. I thought that Wade would love to have a dog like that.”

One corner of Rhett’s mouth went down and his chest fell with a sigh. He stepped over to a northern window of the sitting room with his hands in his pockets, clearly showing reluctance–and possibly confusion at Scarlett’s newfound generosity.

“You call it a _Bernese_ , which I assume means that they’re native to Switzerland, and you say _mountain_ is in the name…” he said, examining the dimensions of the yard through the window. “I also assume that they’re probably traditional farm dogs: drovers and draft dogs. It certainly wouldn’t get any of that sort of work here.”

“He or she could herd the children,” Scarlett joked artfully to gain back Rhett’s attention, flashing a lighthearted smile in his direction. “Pull them in a cart?” Scarlett added before Rhett amusedly returned her smile. “The dog seemed very good with the little boys. He was good with me, too. Very gentle and calm and tender–”

“After he’s had enough exercise, I presume,” added Rhett.

“Oh, the dogs can get plenty of exercise in the yard!” Scarlett dismissed. “And Wade would take the two of them with him when he goes out. They’ll have plenty of activity. And we do have a few mountains nearby. Besides, a dog doesn’t have to be tired out to be sweet and affectionate. It can just be a part of his nature.”

Rhett chuckled deeply at Scarlett’s determination, casually traversing the room to join her again.

“No one would ever accuse you of being prudent in situations such as these, my dear. One dog, two cats, and three children aren’t quite enough for this property? Perhaps I should have negotiated for a larger plot of land further outside of town.”

“Oh, I knew you would think such things,” Scarlett pouted, folding her arms across her chest. “Jack is perfectly happy here. And it wasn’t _me_ who brought a second cat into this household,” she reminded him.

“Wade hasn’t said anything to me about wanting another dog,” continued Rhett, ignoring her last comment.

“Is it so wrong for me to want to surprise him with a gift? I know he’d love it.”

Rhett lifted an eyebrow in response to her unusual sentiments.

“He’s been a good and loyal child. I would just like to do something nice for him when he’s done so many nice things for me.”

Now both of Rhett’s brows were raised.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand,” Scarlett muttered, unable to share the true story of this house, currently beginning the fourth of its miraculous one hundred and forty-four year history–and counting, thanks to Wade Hamilton.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“I know you don’t think that I care, but– I love my son. It’s true, whether you choose to believe me or not.”

Scarlett’s comments left Rhett temporarily mute as her truth resonated in the air; her intensions were unmistakably and uncharacteristically honorable. But kindness and love could be displayed with other methods that did not involve another furry creature.

“Why not let him choose a book or take him downtown and buy him all the candy he wants?”

“Candy? That’s what you always give him. I want to give him something different, and certainly something not so dull as a book.”

“He loves books.”

“He loves his dog, too. When I saw that Bernese, I remembered how desperately Wade had wanted a puppy from the time he and I returned to Atlanta after the war. Remember how happy he was when we returned from New Orleans with Jack?” asked Scarlett.

Rhett nodded with nostalgia.

“I just want to see that look on his face one more time, now that I have the chance… Will you _please_ find out how to get a Bernese puppy?” she asked, now nearly pleading. She was eager for her day to commence and didn’t want to bother with this subject any longer. Rhett should either agree to help her, or not, and be done with it.

A faint smile formed on Rhett’s lips and he directed his eyes to the side, a subtle shake to his head, as if he knew he would regret his decision.

“I’ve never heard of the breed. You might be mistaken about the name, but… You’re right; Wade’s a good child. And to get a present like this from you– I’ll see what I can find out,” Rhett conceded with a slight touch of admiration in his voice.

A bright smile grew on Scarlett’s expectant face and air filled her chest. She nearly ran to Rhett to kiss him as she was known to do in the early years of their marriage when she got her way, though she thought better of it, keeping her tiny feet planted; Scarlett didn’t want to catch him retreating from her, as he had just over a week ago, with blank rejection filling his dark eyes. It wasn’t quite clear where she stood with him in this occasionally awkward atmosphere. She’d rather retain the friendliness that they had somehow recovered since she’d returned home. She felt that the best way to achieve this was by maintaining her distance, as Rhett seemed to prefer keeping his. At least he seemed willing to offer her his friendship. Scarlett would gladly accept it, having missed it for so many years. There had even been times, lately, when she could almost forget that there had ever been any unpleasantness between them.

“Thank you, Rhett,” she said, happily clasping her hands to her chest. “You’ll see that it won’t be a problem at all–having two dogs here.”

“When would you like it?”

“Oh, anytime. It might take a while to find, I suppose, since I had no luck. I wonder if it could even be here by Christmas? It would still be a good surprise if I gave it to him for Christmas, wouldn’t it? Or his birthday?”

“Of course,” answered Rhett. A small smirk of devilment curved up a corner of Rhett’s lips. “Would you like me to particularly track down a female so we can eventually have Saint _Bernese_ puppies littering the yard, too?”

Scarlett’s mouth dropped open, silenced momentarily at the idea.

“Oh, you!” Scarlett exclaimed with a stamp of the foot, before lifting her bonnet from the table next to her and flinging it in his direction; but of course Rhett calmly sidestepped its tumbling trajectory. Scarlett pressed her lips into a flat line, fighting a laugh that had climbed up to the back of her throat. Had Rhett actually teased her after this week-long hiatus? It had seemed an eternity.

Rhett easily plucked the bonnet from the floor and approached Scarlett, dusting the fabric off.

“Haven’t you yet learned that I’ve had _years_ to prepare myself for your impressive arm?” he asked, handing her the handsome bonnet made of plush velvet and white lace that matched her burgundy frock.

The laughter finally burst through Scarlett’s lips and her eyes tilted up to meet his as she seized the bonnet.

“I’ll just have to come up with some other way to punish you for your asinine jokes. They really aren’t to be borne.” She took a restorative breath and glanced at the newspaper resting on the table on the far side of the sofa. She had been preparing to depart for the mills before she remembered that she’d needed to speak with Rhett about the potential gift for Wade. And now that she spotted the paper, she thought perhaps she should make another visit to Sadie before leaving. “Are you finished with the newspaper?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I thought I might take it to Brianne before I left.”

“You mean to tell me that the conjoined cousins are to be separated today?” Rhett asked in mock surprise.

Scarlett nodded.

“She’s not feeling so very well this morning. She’s taken to her bed and I thought she might be interested in reading the day’s news if she’s feeling up to it.”

“Is it anything serious?” Rhett asked, concerned.

“No. Nothing serious. It will all pass in a few days.”

Rhett nodded and his throat hummed, signaling his understanding.

Scarlett redirected her attention downward, wishing that she hadn’t used the careless language that had probably given away the nature of Sadie’s _ailment_. Such things were not to be acknowledged, and yet, Rhett seemed to know everything about women, no matter what the subject, and it never embarrassed him; Scarlett still thought there was something wrong with that.

“There’s mention that there’s been heavy snow in Chicago,” said Rhett, angling his chin toward the paper.

“I’m sure she’d like to know that,” Scarlett said before collecting the thin newspaper. “I’m leaving Brianne in the care of Sarah today and I’m going to the mills and the store–in that order,” Scarlett added, remembering to share her itinerary with Rhett.

“Gallegher’s–”

“First, but I hope not to be long at either,” Scarlett answered before stepping to the door. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

Rhett nodded.

“Oh,” Scarlett said, poking her head back into the sitting room, “and if you can; request a male puppy,” Scarlett wisely added before again disappearing through the door.           As she ascended the staircase, she thought how sweet it would have been for Jack and the new dog to have a litter of puppies. The thought brought back happy childhood memories from Tara of little pups pouncing and crawling on her from all sides, whether it be Foxhounds or mutts, she, sometimes being even smaller than their own canine mother; the puppies tickling her skin with their warm, moist noses and soft paws, she, embracing them with all the love in her youthful heart. How Bonnie, Ella, and Wade would enjoy that! But Rhett was right, she thought practically, this wasn’t Tara and one more dog would be enough–more than enough. Unfortunately, her children would never quite have the free and open upbringing in Atlanta that she had experienced on a plantation.

Scarlett quickly strode down the long hall and paused in front of Sadie’s door, afraid of what she might find. Earlier this morning, poor Sadie had been doubled over in pain, sweating, and nauseous–all that following an overnight migraine. When Scarlett discovered that Sadie hadn’t been down for breakfast, she’d gone to her room to investigate. Once learning the reason for Sadie’s ailments, Scarlett immediately procured the hot water bottle for her as well as a cool wet cloth for her head, and she had gathered the pain curatives by Sadie’s bed, instructing her how to safely and properly ingest them and suggesting those that she thought would work best for her female difficulties. She had already stocked Sadie with a supply of rags a few days before in anticipation of the event.

She knocked, then slowly opened the door and slipped into the bright room, lit by the rare unobstructed sun–generally the first sign of a perfectly cheerful fall day. For Sadie, today seemed to be the polar opposite of that. Her body was curled up on its side on the left side of the bed, the sheet and coverlet stamped down toward the footboard. The sunlight had not warmed the room terribly, but Sadie was still cooling herself with Scarlett’s silk fan, her knees pulled up toward her chest. She turned her head to her left in order to get a glimpse of the person who had entered the room.

“Hi,” she greeted weakly.

“Hi,” returned Scarlett. “I got the newspaper for you. Rhett’s not taking it with him to the bank.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and you’ll never guess. Rhett agreed to search for a puppy–a Bernese.”

“That’s good,” Sadie replied with as much enthusiasm as she could physically muster.

“Wade’s going to be so happy,” Scarlett beamed as she set the paper on the bedside table next to Sadie’s eyeglasses, though her face dimmed as she looked down at Sadie, sympathy taking over her visage. Breathing heavily, with strands of hair matted to her pale temple, Sadie was the image of discomfort. “Sarah will be arriving with the tea any minute now,” Scarlett announced. “Do you think I should open a window?”

Sadie nodded.

“Maybe all of them,” she requested, continuing to fan herself. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you only get hot flashes during menopause.”

“I won’t…if I knew what that was,” answered Scarlett as she lifted the sash of the first window.

“The time when a woman can stop dealing with all this–” Sadie explained, cutting herself off before a curse could escape her lips.

“The change of life?”

“That’s it.” Sadie groaned, curling her body around the lukewarm water bottle, “I hate being a woman sometimes…”

Scarlett’s lips curved with renewed empathy.

“It’s not always this bad either, but just my luck, the worst it can be had to happen here and now. Forgive me, but this just sucks in eighteen seventy-one, in every way…” she grumpily presented her opinion with a wince. “The pain isn’t quite as bad now, so I don’t think the nausea will hang on. You don’t have anything like– I buy this little tin of ginger mints for when I have a sour stomach. You don’t have anything like that, do you?”

“I think I can find something similar. I’ll pick up some hard candies with ginger when I’m out.”

“Thanks. I haven’t gotten sick like that from this since my early twenties. At least that little commode over there finally came in handy.”

Scarlett quietly laughed as she cracked open the final window, glad that Sadie could still maintain a sense of humor when she was feeling at her worst. Sadie had sworn that she wouldn’t use the chamber pot, but urgent, unpreventable forces had driven her to go back on her word.

“That feels better already,” commented Sadie when Scarlett took a seat on the edge of the bed. She breathed in the fresh, chilly air wafting in and a calmness washed over her face.

“Here,” said Scarlett, drawing the cloth from Sadie’s forehead. She walked over to the washbasin and soaked the cloth in the cool water for a half minute, wrung it out and replaced it on Sadie’s forehead.

Sadie sighed with relief, her eyes closing for a few minutes.

“Thank you. You’re very good at nursing. Very comforting…”

“I’ve nursed before.”

“Yes. During the war.”

“I hated it,” Scarlett disclosed, having grown unafraid of sharing her opinions with Sadie.

“Well… I don’t blame you. It takes a particular type of person to choose to join that profession. Many of us would be no good at it.”

“Melly was good at it.”

“I’m sure she was. She seems to have the right temperament. Well, in any case,” Sadie started, finally opening her eyes, “you’ve been an awesome emergency room nurse for me this morning. Thanks.” She reached out her left hand and waited for Scarlett to take it in hers for a light squeeze.

“Here’s the tea, Miss Scarlett,” Sarah announced as she entered the room with a small silver tray. Despite her sweltering internal body temperature, Sadie pulled her hand away and subtly slid the long sleeve of her nightgown down over her exposed tattoo.

“Put it over there, by the settee. I’ll serve it. You take Miss Brianne’s water bottle and get her some boiling hot water.”

“Yes’m.”

Scarlett handed Sarah the knit cozy-covered earthenware bottle, apologizing to Sadie in the process for taking away her temporary relief.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Sadie said gratefully. She had already thanked and apologized to Sarah at each of her appearances this morning, ashamed that someone else was expected to assist her with the consequences of this issue.

“Here, I think this will help–”

“Make me sweat even more?” Sadie added to Scarlett’s sentence.

“That, too,” Scarlett drolly answered, setting the steaming teacup on the bedside table and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe you should let it cool down for a while.”

Sadie aimed her nostrils over the cup, and sniffed, “Chamomile?”

“It works for me.”

“Though, I bet you never have it this bad.”

“Well, no… Not generally. But I have given birth.”

Sadie chuckled.

“Yeah, you’ve got me there. I once heard labor described as just really, really bad…like the worst possible cramps. Sometimes I wonder if the powers that be decided to punish me, since I never wanted kids, and said, ‘So, she doesn’t ever want to go through labor? Well, how about this? We’ll make her _feel_ like she’s going through it about four times each year.’”

Scarlett tittered.

“You almost look like Melly did when she was having Beau. And that was in the heat of September.”

 “I don’t doubt it. At least she got something out of it that she really wanted… I guess you’ve felt this awful only three times in your life, then.”

Scarlett nodded, deciding not to correct her. The fourth time she’d experienced such pain was when she’d miscarried. It had been bad in 2011, but even worse in 1871. Though, the physical pain at that time did not come close to what the event had done to her spirits.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay?” Scarlett asked.

“No. No. Your businesses need you. I’ve already kept you from them too much.”

“I’ll be back to check on you at dinnertime. And I won’t stay too late at the store. Ring for Sarah whenever you need something. Don’t try to do everything for yourself,” Scarlett ordered the independent Sadie. “I’m going to have her check on you at least every half hour.”

Sadie tilted her head back to glance up at the bell pull next to the headboard, well within her reach.

“I always thought it was such a good idea to put the bell pulls next to the beds. Never did I think I would actually need to use one of them eventually. But I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’re eager to get back on top of things.”

Scarlett nodded. She was eager to catch up on all those small items she’d neglected in the last few weeks; it would be nice to be back into a sort of routine.

“Well, go on,” Sadie said, shooing Scarlett with the closed fan in her hand. “I’ll still be here when you get back. The furthest I’ll trek is your bathroom, so you don’t have to worry about me being on your staircase.”

Scarlett smiled and said, “All right. I’ll see you in a little while,” briefly adjusting the bed sheet where she had just sat. “Don’t do anything careless while I’m away.”

“If by careless, you mean spending the entire day right here, hugging the hot water bottle to me as if it were a lifeline, then I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to disobey.”

Scarlett left with a smile; it seemed that Sadie’s condition was on the upswing if she could now joke about her suffering.

 

*              *              *

 

Sadie had been anxious to continue exploring Scarlett’s world out in Atlanta’s expanse, but because of this frustrating monthly inconvenience, they were now separated; she, stuck in her room, while Scarlett was out, free to roam. With Sadie’s days numbered here, the idleness was trying. However, she realized that even though they were apart, much of Scarlett’s world actually resided right in this home. And not all the days of Sadie’s confinement were quite like the first few.

While she had been diverted by the daily puns that appeared in one of the daily newspapers, with one-liners such as: _England has some witty poets, but America has one Whittier_ and _The patron saint of small New York counterfeiters–Cent Nickelus_ , they weren’t enough to distract her for but a minute or two and, thankfully, by Monday, Sadie felt physically able to at least venture out into the rest of the house. If she couldn’t explore the town right now, at least she was able to explore the personalities of this isolated sphere. Scarlett might have categorized this as something careless, but Sadie had only so much time here, and she didn’t want to squander any available moment.

With only Ella and Bonnie remaining in the house during many hours of the day, Sadie had plenty of time to get to know the servants whether she was visiting the kitchen to collect a pot of hot water, journeying to the library for a book, or taking a peek in the playroom to briefly visit her little _second_ _cousins_ , crossing paths with Cookie or her kitchen assistant, Esther, Pork and his son, Prince, or Mammy or Prissy. And she had already spent a fair amount of time with Sarah during the worst of her days.

Sadie would strike up conversations, subtly conducting interviews about their lives often via inquiries about Scarlett’s life or her family in general, since a fair number had known her since her youth. They didn’t find her questions as suspicious as they would have if anyone else were quizzing them, for, based on her demeanor and respectful interactions with them, they knew she looked on them with more fairness than most others in their everyday life. It was not that Miss Scarlett or Captain Butler or the children were unkind to them, they were generally very friendly, but the heads of the household had grown up in this system of rank that had formed their beliefs. It was clear that Brianne Hall had not been raised in such a manner; she was interested in their lives completely separate from any connection to her own. It was as if their opinions and histories had actually mattered as much as Brianne O’Hara Hall’s.

She wanted to know about their origins and asked them about their childhoods and what they remembered about their families. What was it like to have one’s future decided from the day of their birth? She asked them how they came to be specialized in their positions and if they were happy with their work or if they wished they could be doing something else with their lives. She wondered about their own dreams and aspirations beyond those of their former masters and current employers. She wanted to learn about their trades and their duties and the running of this considerable household. In the end, she discovered that at least the older generation of O’Hara servants seemed to take great pride in their accomplishments, as if Gerald’s and Ellen’s and Scarlett’s accomplishments had been their own–and in a way, they had been.

The younger generation, consisting of Esther, Prissy, and Sarah, had a slightly different response. While they were obviously pleased to have positions in such an important house, there was a sense that they longed for something more; yet that something was unclear. What other options were available for them? The realities of freedom had not yet allowed them to see beyond the fact that they supposedly had greater choice in their lives. Opportunity was another matter…

Toward the end of a visit with Pork and Prince–who happened to be shadowing his father that morning instead of trailing after his mother–Sadie inquired about the seven year-old’s education, thinking he should be in school by this age. Pork felt that he, himself, should have been suspicious of the turn in the conversation to such a subject because he generally believed what his masters had believed, and none of them had placed education, or especially the education of his people, very high on their list of priorities.

Sadie encouraged Pork to speak with Dilcey and consider getting their son started on an academic education. And if they didn’t want a Yankee schoolmarm to educate their son–as Pork had immediately argued, echoing the general consensus of the _quality_ Georgians Pork had known, including this home’s own Mistress–then they should seek out an alternative, such as a church congregation of their peers willing to educate a boy like Prince. Though _Miss Brianne_ made a point of reminding him that not all Yankee women were bad–after all, he had liked her, hadn’t he? The Northern women who had come down to Georgia after the war to educate the former slaves had nothing but good intentions and believed in the cause, otherwise why would they have wanted to come here and subject themselves to the hatred and harassment they had received? Pork thought that maybe Miss Brianne Hall had a point. And maybe he and Dilcey should give Prince a better start and more opportunity than they’d had from their earliest days, even if Pork hoped his son would follow in his footsteps and become a valued valet and butler. An education might actually improve those chances, Sadie reminded him. It was already clear that Prince was wise like his mother. Perhaps he could put his strong mind to good use. After his discussion with Brianne, Pork decided that it was worth consideration; Prince seemed eager for a distraction and a chance to be like Wade Hamilton and Beau Wilkes, with whom he had been raised from his birth.

It was clear that Dilcey’s other child, Prissy, wouldn’t have chosen to seriously focus on an education even if the opportunity had been presented to her. Education would not have suited someone more interested in the social aspect of life. The twenty-two year old, while clearly sharp and observant, was more concerned with her own appearance and status in the eyes of others. She might have wanted to pass herself off as intelligent, but educated, she was not. In her attempts to impress Brianne Hall and get close to the woman in order to learn those previously-hinted secrets about the Northerner, she almost let her first meeting with Brianne slip in the presence of Mammy. Sadie had found it necessary to pull Prissy aside later and instruct her to _ixnay_ mention of their earlier _eetingmay_. Thankfully, it seemed that Prissy was willing to honor that request when it was accompanied by flattery.

Of all the servants that Sadie interacted with, Mammy was the most suspicious of this newcomer.

“Miss Scarlett. She callin’ me _Miss M_ now, ‘cause she say Mammy a position, not a name. She wan’ed t’ call me Ada,” Mammy complained during her one-on-one conference with Scarlett. “But I wouldn’ let ’er.”

“Why Ada?” asked Scarlett distractedly, as she searched for a particular necklace in her jewelry collection to go with her evening dress.

“That the name your great-grandma Prudhomme give t’ me.”

“Oh,” Scarlett responded, stilled for a moment, surprised to realize that she had never known Mammy’s official name. “Well, why don’t you let her call you what she wants to call you?”

Mammy watched as Scarlett held up a garnet pendant to her chest and then switched to pearls to see which looked best.

“Because I _Mammy_ now. And that how she know me.”

“Oh, just let her call you what she prefers,” Scarlett decided, annoyed at Mammy’s silly annoyance.

“She callin’ Miss Ella an umbrella, now,” added Mammy, referring to Sadie’s use of some Rihanna lyrics as a cute nickname for Ella.

“An umbrella?” asked Scarlett, finally turning her focus to Mammy once hearing the absurd statement. Scarlett had easily forgotten the reference since she had heard the song in question only once before.

“Miss Ella like it, though,” Mammy answered, referring to Ella’s bright smiles and giggles at the extra attention. “An’ she teachin’ the girls how t’ prop’ly sneeze.”

“To what?”

“Miss Ella, she sneeze and Miss Brianne tell her an’ Bonnie that they should sneeze in t’ their sleeve so they don’t make nobody sick. Then, she tellin’ ‘um t’ wash their hands all th’ time.”

Scarlett giggled, recalling that Sadie was a self-proclaimed _germophobe_.

“She just doesn’t want the girls sneezing on her,” Scarlett explained good-humoredly.

“Lord almighty,” reacted Mammy, thinking Brianne Hall the oddest woman she’d ever met. “An’ she askin’ me all ‘bout Miss Ellen and Miss Solange and all th’ way back t’ my earliest mem’ries in Savannah, and how I like raisin’ you chil’ren… An’ wonderin’ if I miss havin’ my own… Or wonderin’ if I miss gettin’ married… An’ she wonderin’ ‘bout my own mammy an’ pa–”

 “Oh, let her ask,” Scarlett concluded with little interest, “Brianne’s just fascinated with everyone and everything. She’s had enough questions for me, myself, since she’s arrived. And even more for Rhett. She’s just a curious person and trying to get to know our family in her own way.”

“Don’t know why she be interest’d in me… Seem like Yankee questions,” Mammy commented resentfully.

“Oh, you’d rather she be rude?” Scarlett questioned, setting the garnet aside to loop the pearls around her neck, knowing Mammy’s rheumatism wouldn’t have allowed her assistance. “You’d rather she be rude like those Yankee women were to Uncle Peter?”

“No’m.”

“Well, then, what do you want?” Scarlett asked, spinning around on her vanity bench to face Mammy, bored with this conversation. There was no controlling what sort of questions Sadie asked when not in her presence, and frankly, Scarlett didn’t much care as long as those questions and comments didn’t give Sadie’s or Scarlett’s secrets away.

“It’s jus’…a Yankee woman– Well, any woman or man never talk t’ me like that before. She even thank me for the sacrifice I made t’ the family…an’ my loyalty. An’ she hope you all’re ‘preciative, too.”

“Did you add that last part yourself?” Scarlett asked with a smile.

“No, Miss Scarlett,” Mammy responded, with clear offense. “I ain’ lookin’ for no–”

“Mammy…” Scarlett began, her voice as soft as lamb’s wool as she rose from the bench. Placing her hand on Mammy’s formidable shoulder, she continued, “You know we appreciate you. I was only teasing. I know you weren’t searching for a compliment, but I’ll give it anyway. You know I couldn’t have made it this far without you. And without you, why, Mother…” Scarlett’s words trailed off, not having a need to be spoken. The O’Haras definitely knew how important Mammy had been to their family, even if they hadn’t always expressed it. “The next time Miss Brianne asks, you tell her that we are most appreciative of your loyal service.”

“I already did,” Mammy proudly replied, her chin held up high.

Scarlett giggled.

“I should have known… So, how do I look? Were the pearls the correct choice?”

Mammy studied the composition for only a quick moment, eyeing the jade green brocade dress consisting of more draping than a set of New York stage curtains. The double-strand of pearls complimented the square neckline and coloring nicely.

“Yes’m. I believe so,” she answered before Scarlett sprung around her to stand in front of the full-length mirror to primp before supper.

           

That night, Sadie finally rejoined the family in the dining room, reassuring everyone that she was feeling much better and would soon be at her full strength again, though the alarming paleness of her normally olive cheeks seemed to add some concern to the faces of her peers. Scarlett even ordered Pork to serve Brianne extra slices of ham and a larger portion of beans, hoping that would return the color to her skin. Sadie thanked everyone for their consideration over the past several days; they had made her convalescence as bearable as it could be. And everyone at the table had expressed how glad they were to have her back, especially the children, who were more animated than usual after Brianne Hall’s reappearance in the dining room.

Later, when Scarlett mentioned this fact to Sadie, Sadie replied: “Like flies to honey… I swear I’m a kid magnet and I have no clue why. It’s like when a cat realizes that a certain person doesn’t like cats all that much. Guess where that cat decides to hang out?”

“Where?”

“By the person least likely to want the cat near them. My grandma was that way,” Sadie laughed. “The cats always flocked to her and all I remember her saying to them was ‘Shoo! Get away!’, waving her dish towel at them when she was in the kitchen. I don’t mind kids hanging around, I guess, as long as they aren’t screaming or secreting mucus and trying to share it with me.”

That night at supper, Scarlett reminded everyone of the various upcoming events on the family’s busy schedule. Coming in just a few days, about the time that Sadie assured Scarlett she would once again be at one hundred percent, the Butlers were hosting Thanksgiving dinner; the Wilkes and Henry Hamilton were to be their guests. Since Melanie’s split with Pittypat Hamilton, Scarlett felt that she owed Melanie regular invites to family gatherings. Melanie often insisted that the Butlers instead come to her home, but Scarlett argued that there was so much more room at her own house; it was built for entertaining.

Scarlett also mentioned that Bridget Flaherty had invited both she and Brianne to an evening of whist the following Saturday. There was no need to mention that Mamie Bart would also be attending, though of course it hadn’t mattered, for Rhett’s expression soured at the mention of the gathering anyway.

“Whist?” Sadie’s face brightened as she spoke. “Do you play…oh, what was it called?” she thought for a moment. “Court Whist?”

“Court Whist?” Scarlett repeated.

“It’s been a long time since I played, but it’s so much fun. There is a round, I think, when each trick counts double and a round when one doesn’t have a partner and one where each side scores the opponents tricks and,” she paused to laugh, “one in which if any player speaks they forfeit a portion of their score…and…I’ll have to think on the remainder.”

Scarlett was pleased to see Rhett’s face brighten with Sadie’s enthusiasm.

“It looks like you’ve found yourself an expert partner, my dear,” he said as if he was glad to know that Brianne Hall would be accompanying Scarlett when she joined such unsavory company, as if Scarlett might now have a new and wise guardian. The _riffraff_ , as he called them, were not allowed in his home when he was present and he didn’t much like Scarlett associating with them in theirs, either. “Yet another similarity is surfacing between the fair cousins: the love of whist. The longer you stay, Brianne, the more likenesses we are finding.”

And longer she _would_ stay.

Before Scarlett brought up the topic of their upcoming visit to Tara, she broached the topic of Brianne Hall’s stay in Atlanta through the holidays.

That afternoon, Sadie had taken a look at her phone, and thankfully it still had some battery power after sitting off and idle for just over a week. Why she hadn’t yet thought to take some photographs in the time before she would lose the use of the object completely, she didn’t know, but she’d snapped a few more shots of she and Scarlett together, Scarlett separately, most of the rooms of the house, and even covertly aimed at the yard outside Scarlett’s window to capture Rhett and the children out visiting Jack after dinner, with Ella standing off to the side, backing away if Jack aimed his trot in her direction. While glancing at her calendar, Sadie noted that somehow new appointments had been set up for her services and Jennifer had just added a public program on the Irish poet, Seamus Heaney. They had not been there before, when she had first arrived in 1871. While her messages hadn’t seemed to reach Dylan, Peggy, Jennifer, or James, this adjustment in her calendar told her that she was still living a normal life in 2011. How could she have scheduled further appointments if she hadn’t been there? Strange happenings out in the vastness of space, solar flares or the like, had somehow allowed for her to see the changes in her calendar and she was more than relieved. Now that she knew she still had a presence in modern-day Atlanta, she was unafraid to extend her stay here. She longed to experience the most joyous of all holidays with the Butlers.  

Scarlett and Sadie needed to have a reason for Brianne Hall to stay here through the new year and they had it all planned out.

“Rhett?” Scarlett asked at the supper table that night. “I was thinking that it would be nice to invite Brianne to stay with us for Christmas.”

“Oh, no–” Sadie began to protest, as planned, before Rhett had a chance to react, though all the children immediately chimed in their wishes for Brianne to stay.

“Didn’t you say that your parents would be traveling to be with your sister, Hannah, and her family in Indiana this Christmas? And of course Mr. Hall is in Europe. You really should be with family for Christmas,” Scarlett argued.

“I thought I might join my sister Emily’s family this year.”

“Up in cold, snowy Illinois?” Scarlett argued. “You should stay here.”

The children again echoed their mother’s sentiments.

“Well…” Sadie began in consideration. “I do– Well, I am partial to snow, at least during Christmas.”

“We might have it here,” Scarlett offered, knowing it was highly unlikely.

“Even if I stayed,” Sadie began, “maybe it would be best if I went back to Savannah. I haven’t spent Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa O’Hara since I was first married.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to have you, but you’ve already done so much traveling. I’m sure you’d like to stay in one place for a little longer. And we’d be happy to have you.”

“I don’t know. I’m grateful for the invitation, and of course I’d be happy to stay, but you don’t need me imposing on your family for much longer.”

“You’re part of our family,” Scarlett countered. “Oh, Rhett, tell her that she wouldn’t be intruding,” Scarlett ordered, putting Rhett in an impossible situation. With his assistance and consent now, he would be unable to argue against Brianne Hall’s stay later. Scarlett had attempted to back him into a corner. She just hoped he wouldn’t easily slip out of it, as he was very capable of doing.

“No, Scarlett,” Sadie began. “Mr. Butler– Cousin Rhett,” Sadie corrected, remembering Rhett’s many previous requests that she address him less formally. It had been a difficult habit to break, as she had been using the _Pride and Prejudice_ miniseries as a template for her speech and etiquette rules despite it being set in an earlier time period. Rhett had been placed in the role of Mr. Darcy…and when had Mr. Darcy ever been addressed as Fitzwilliam? “You don’t have to–” she continued, playing the good cop to Scarlett’s bad.

Rhett eyed both Scarlett and Sadie, clearly wondering if this entire scene had been legitimate or if it had been one grand ruse. Sadie was more difficult to read than Scarlett, so even if Scarlett’s intentions were clear, Sadie’s were not. By all appearances, she could have easily been innocent in Scarlett’s scheme; her guilt would not be easy to prove.

Before Rhett had been able to decide one way or the other, the chorus of the children cut in: “Please, Daddy!” “I want her to stay, Uncle Rhett. Make her stay.” “Cousin Brianne should stay with us for Christmas, Uncle Rhett.”

“It seems we have a general consensus in this room,” Rhett started, looking to each child’s hopeful face, finally pausing on Scarlett’s, showing as much eagerness as her children. “Brianne,” he directed toward Sadie, “We would be delighted if you would agree to remain with us through the holidays.”

Sadie smiled with quiet ease, showing her gratitude.

“Thank you. I never could have imagined that I would be welcomed into this family with such generosity.” She then looked to the attentive children around the table and announced, “I will stay,” eliciting a response of smiles, squeals, and Bonnie’s awkwardly clapping hands. And whenever Bonnie was happy, Rhett was happy; he seemed content with his decision.

The last order of business on Scarlett’s agenda was the December eleventh trip to Tara. She wished that they still had access to a car so they could make it a day trip, but as they did not have that modern convenience, they would be visiting the Benteens for a few days, returning home to Atlanta on the morning of the fifteenth. Making a decision on assumptions–as she and Rhett often did now instead of communicating with each other–Scarlett had planned on bringing Wade and Ella along, too, even though she’d have to take Wade out of school, thinking that Rhett would prefer it this way. Suellen suggested that the visit be an early Christmas gathering for the O’Haras since they had not spent the last five Christmases together; Frank Kennedy had been a large reason for that hiatus. Despite the stresses of their time together during Scarlett’s convalescence at Tara, Suellen did seem eager to mend some fences–at least for the benefit of their visiting cousin, decided Scarlett.

“Traveling to Tara, in two weeks?” Rhett asked as if surprised.

“Yes. You knew Brianne and I were planning to go. I mentioned it to you when Suellen’s letter arrived. Brianne wanted a chance to see what Pa built after leaving her grandpa’s business. At least _she’s_ interested in my home,” Scarlett threw in, giving Sadie an appreciative nod. There was a slight bitterness in her statement, which floated across the table to Rhett. Rhett had never once asked to travel with her to Tara. Even when he said he would help her get home during the war, he never made it the entire way. He’d never shown any interest in it like Sadie had. And since Rhett never offered to join her, Scarlett never even asked. She already knew what his answer would be: he didn’t like farms and much preferred the city.

“And we’ll be celebrating Christmas early between our families.”

“Presents?” Bonnie interjected already associating the word Christmas with gifts.

“Yes, I suppose,” Scarlett answered her, wondering how Bonnie would take the certain news that her father wouldn’t let her join in the celebration. “I’ll need to find something to bring for Susie and Stella and Will, and I suppose Suellen as well,” Scarlett decided grudgingly, provoking a coughing laugh from Rhett, knowing of the strained relationship between the sisters.

“S-swella?” Bonnie tried to repeat one of her cousin’s names.

“Yes, your cousin Stella. She’s about your age. So,” Scarlett continued, turning her attention to Rhett, “I hope you’ll be able to keep an eye on the store and mills for me for a few days. Brianne, Wade, Ella, and I will leave the morning of the eleventh–”

“Not me?” yelled Bonnie as her hand released a slice of buttered bread over her plate. Rhett leaned over to her, placing a finger over his lips reminding her to lower her voice.

Sadie’s eyes turned to Scarlett and expressed something similar to Bonnie’s reaction: _Not them?_ Scarlett hadn’t previously detailed who was to make up the traveling party and Sadie had probably thought that it would either just be the two of them or all of them.

“Well, no, darling,” Scarlett answered Bonnie. “I thought Father would want to keep you here with him.”

Bonnie turned to face her father.

Scarlett hadn’t intended for her comment to provoke the look that Bonnie bestowed on Rhett, and Scarlett couldn’t help but quietly snort at the scowl on Bonnie’s face as she looked up at her father, as if this were his fault that she wouldn’t be meeting her cousins or especially receiving presents.

“I never go to Tara,” Bonnie complained to Rhett with a pout.                   

“You’re welcome to join us, Bonnie,” Scarlett immediately offered, now taking on the role of good cop to Rhett’s bad. These opportunities didn’t come along every day.

Bonnie’s attention swung down the table to her mother, her blue eyes wide and sparkling. All her troubles suddenly over, she would now be sure to receive a present at Tara and not be left out of the expedition as she had been three months ago–not that she had really been desperate to go before. She’d been able to remain in the place she felt most comfortable and her father, her favorite parent, stayed with her. Her father’s undivided attention and free rein would forever be welcome, nearly above anything else.

“But I’m not sure how Father could bear to part with you,” added Scarlett, directing her words to Rhett, knowing he would likely fight to keep Bonnie with him.

“Didn’t we have a nice time here, Bonnie?” Rhett asked, immediately accepting Scarlett’s original plans.

Bonnie drew her attention from her mother and returned it to her father. It was clear to every astute family member and servant in the dining room that this could potentially escalate into a tug-of-war between the parents. The newest member could see it happening, too, but didn’t understand _why_ it was happening.

“We’ll have the entire house to ourselves, again,” Rhett added, his voice enticing. Bonnie seemed hypnotized, recalling the games of Indian from this past August and September, remembering the fact that her father had kept Mammy from brushing her hair when she didn’t want her to; her mother never allowed that. And she recollected holding tea parties with all of Ella’s left-behind dolls in addition to her own. What popular tea parties she had! And never was she happier than when her father acted as her playmate. _How could her father bear to part with her?_ How could she bear to part with her father?

“Bonnie?” came Sadie’s voice, cutting through the cheerful thoughts of another father-daughter adventure.

Bonnie slowly made recognition and turned to face her cousin kitty-corner from her across the table.

“Your mother told me you were in Charleston for quite a long time. But you’ve never been to Tara?” she asked curiously once she had the child’s attention.

Bonnie shook her head.

“Never?”

Bonnie again shook her head and looked down to her plate, retrieving her small piece of bread to take a bite, hunger suddenly striking again.

Sadie’s eyes transferred from the girl to Rhett, and Scarlett wondered if her confused look was almost accusatory. Sadie had clearly noted that Bonnie was her father’s girl more than she was her mother’s daughter, but that shouldn’t have meant that she was _only_ her father’s daughter.

“Ella?” she asked, looking directly across from her. “Wade?” Sadie continued, looking to her left. “Have you both visited Tara?”

Each nodded.

“We were just there,” said Ella. “I didn’t like Susie,” she added, though her statement remained uncommented on, so she slipped a forkful of sweet potatoes into her mouth and chewed leisurely.

“And, Wade, you lived there for a little while, didn’t you?”

Wade again nodded, this time somberly. He wished he hadn’t ever lived there since it was the most frightening and painful year-and-a-half of his life; he associated Tara with three things: fear, sickness, and hunger. What had made it bearable was living with his dear Aunt Melly, who had provided all his comfort, and his mother, who had provided all of his security.

“I bet you even knew your Grandpa O’Hara.”

Wade nodded, though he could barely remember the nervous and vacant little old man. He did recall that his mother had often spoken to Gerald O’Hara as she had to him–when she was in a patient mood–calmly reasoning with her own father as if he had also been a young child. This had even seemed odd to Wade at the age of three.

“And Mother knew Wade as well, when he was a baby. Wade was born at Tara,” Scarlett reminded Sadie.

“I’m glad your O’Hara grandparents were able to know you, Wade. I’m sure they were both very proud,” Sadie complimented, bringing a redness to Wade’s cheeks as only she could. From the moment Wade met her, Brianne O’Hara had been like an angel to him.

“So, Wade and Ella have been able to experience Tara. I’m just curious,” Sadie began, now speaking directly to Rhett, “to know why Bonnie hasn’t had that chance? At the risk of sticking my nose where it might not belong–and having you wish to rescind your Christmas invitation to me,” she joked to ease potential tension, “Bonnie’s an O’Hara, too, equal to Wade and Ella. Shouldn’t she see her mother’s childhood home, too? It’s part of her.”

Rhett brought his napkin to his lips to conceal a smirk, though Scarlett could easily read that expression in his eyes.

As he dropped the napkin to his lap, he joked, “Do I sense another lecture approaching? I’d like to know so I can be on guard this time.”

Scarlett giggled, but Pork tensed at Rhett’s words and Wade seemed to grow nervous, recalling their supper from last Thursday when the atmosphere between Rhett and Sadie had become somewhat tense. The other three bodies in the room seemed to barely take notice, Prissy standing bored, nearly dozing behind Ella and Bonnie’s chairs, Ella creatively mashing her fork into her potatoes, and Bonnie shoving the remainder of her bread in her mouth, blankly staring at her father as she chewed, waiting for his attention to return to her.

“I don’t believe anyone could accuse Brianne of being without opinion,” Scarlett teased, sending it directly to the woman to her left, though intending it to ease Rhett’s potential frustration.

Sadie smiled at Scarlett, showing her that there had been no offense taken and acknowledging that she had known she’d been a thorn in Scarlett’s side many-a-time and would surely find herself in that position again at some time in the near future.

Rhett looked to Scarlett and caught her infectious smile. If Scarlett had found amusement with this situation, it was probably because she’d also been on his end of things a time or two with Brianne Hall. Misery, indeed, loved company. While both Rhett and Scarlett liked her, Brianne would have been the type of girl whose pigtails either of them would have yanked occasionally as children for being an annoying know-it-all. Their eyes locked momentarily. One might have suspected that they were conspiring to take an equivalent action against Miss O’Hara-Hall.

“No need to be on guard,” assured Sadie. “I’m merely wondering why Bonnie hasn’t yet been to Tara when she’s already been much further afield to Charleston? It was very good of you to allow her to spend time with her grandmother there–they should visit each other often–but Bonnie does have O’Hara family, too. I’m so grateful for having had the chance to see where many of my ancestors lived, to see where I’ve come from on both sides. I’m thankful that my father has taken me to see Grandma and Grandpa O’Hara in Savannah so many times even though it is a great distance from our home. Seeing these places, knowing these people, helps us understand where we’ve come from and helps us understand ourselves. Don’t you think so?” Sadie directed to Rhett. “I remember not long ago, you speaking of your seafaring grandfather and of the bond you feel with him. Bonnie might eventually feel that way about her Grandpa Gerald or Grandma Ellen. She should have the chance to see where they built their lives.”

Scarlett looked on Sadie with admiration. It was very decent of her to be concerned with Bonnie’s awareness of her O’Hara grandparents. As close as she was with Bonnie, Scarlett hadn’t had much of an opportunity to tell her stories about Gerald and Ellen as Gerald had told her stories of his family when she was a child. Scarlett had always intended to share such history with Bonnie, but hadn’t made enough of an effort; now she had much more motivation to begin.

Rhett cleared his throat after studying Scarlett’s contemplative expression, which was fixed on her youngest daughter, and replied, “I appreciate your concern for my daughter. Of course Bonnie should know her O’Hara family,” Rhett said with muted emotion, and Scarlett wondered if he hadn’t quite meant what he had said. “She’s very young and the opportunity has not presented itself yet for a visit to Tara.”

“I believe it has just been presented,” Sadie countered with a smile. “She has no obligations here, has she? I would think she’d be available for a short visit to Clayton County. Bonnie, you’d like to see Tara, wouldn’t you?”

Bonnie nodded her head and then looked to her father, saying, “Tara?” in a way so reminiscent of her mother.

Rhett sighed, looking down the table to the meddlesome Brianne Hall, one corner of his mouth dropping, and turned his attention to Scarlett, as if wondering if she had put her cousin up to this ambush. He then leaned down toward Bonnie.

“Don’t you want to stay here, Bonnie? I’ll be very lonely without you.”

“Without you?” Bonnie wondered with great concern.

“You’ll be going with your mother and I’ll be staying here,” Rhett clarified.

Scarlett’s mouth morphed into a sour pout once she recognized Rhett’s aim. Oh, if this wasn’t Rhett at his most manipulative! Rhett very well knew that Bonnie would refuse to go anywhere without him. He was forcing Bonnie to choose between her parents, and Scarlett knew what Bonnie’s selection would be. She could just imagine the smug look of victory Rhett would present to Sadie and herself. Before Scarlett’s hopes could be completely crushed, Sadie intervened.

“Well, Cousin Rhett. Would it be very difficult for you, in the next few weeks, to arrange your bank schedule so you could join us? I assume that is why you think you must stay here. It would be unfortunate for you to miss out on this family gathering.”

Turning her attention to Scarlett, Sadie indicated with her eyes that Scarlett should offer Rhett an invitation. Sadie had not been made aware of the situation up until this supper. She certainly hadn’t expected half the family to travel and half to stay put.

Scarlett reluctantly raised her eyes to the man directly across from her at the table. It wasn’t that she’d really mind Rhett joining them, but then who would watch her businesses for her? She’d prefer having someone extremely competent around in case something went wrong in any arena. Rhett was the perfect assistant–as long as he wasn’t trying to sell her businesses out from under her.

The table became silent as if everyone was waiting for Scarlett to say something, to set things right. Even the distracted Ella took notice of the moment and ceased playing with her food. Scarlett could feel Wade’s attention on her, silently urging her to make the soundest decision. Her chest fell with a long exhale, the orange gas light of the chandelier rolling over the pearls around her neck. She had been forced into a corner and would not be leaving this room without making an invitation. If she tried to find her way out of it, she thought, looking to her dark-haired two year-old, she was sure to face the inevitable. If Rhett was to remain in Atlanta, so would Bonnie. And Sadie had set the seed in Scarlett’s mind; yes, Bonnie should see Tara, and as soon as possible to let it–and her grandparents–begin to grow in her heart like they had in Scarlett’s. In order to gain Bonnie, Scarlett had to humble herself and make a genuine offer. So, she molded her face into a pleasant but neutral expression.

“Rhett?” she said, though she did not need to capture his attention as it had been fixed on her for several minutes. “You’re also very welcome to join us at Tara. I would really like Bonnie to be with us this time and I know how difficult it would be if– Well, I’m sure you– You’ve never been separated before.”

“Daddy,” Bonnie interrupted, standing on her chair to lean over the table in her father’s direction. “Tara!” she urged, knocking her small fist into the table.

“So like Pa,” thought Scarlett, wistfully remembering Gerald hammering his fist on the dining room table when he got worked up about something. Normally, Scarlett would have immediately scolded Bonnie for her poor table manners, but whenever Bonnie reminded Scarlett of her dear father, she held her tongue.

Rhett looked to Scarlett for confirmation that this was what she really wanted and she returned her eyes to his.

“You’ll be able to get away, won’t you?” she hesitantly asked.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

Rhett and Scarlett’s eyes remained fixed until Sadie spoke, breaking the silence that had again filled the room following Rhett’s confirmation.

“Well, Bonnie, it looks like you and your father will be joining us at Tara.”

Bonnie squealed, ever so grateful for her father’s acceptance of the invitation, and leaned far enough toward his chair for him to draw her over and rest her in his lap.

“Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Sadie stated to her two hosts, Scarlett’s attention now on her youngest and most cheerful daughter. “Just like pulling teeth,” their guest added under her breath, before her humorless expression morphed into a smile. A laugh escaped her lips when she noticed that Rhett had caught her joke. His rumbling laughter mixed with Sadie’s, forcing the strained air from the room. Rhett could laugh at himself, but Scarlett… Scarlett remained silent, now looking down at her plate, thinking on what had just transpired.

Rhett? At Tara? Now, how was this going to work?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer has been a little more productive for me because my summer college course was cancelled (so I only have my full-time work to fill the hours). However, I start up classes again sometime in August. I will try to keep writing regularly, but it will be at a snail's pace unless I go wild someday :) Sorry for the slow pace! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I enjoy this chapter because it involves many GWTW characters. Yes, Rhett appears, too! I think a minor language warning, but nothing major. Oh, and in this story - Mammy has been given the name of Ada as her original name (if you've forgotten the earlier mention).
> 
> I also want to say that I've started to load many of your stories here on my kindle so I can get to reading them comfortably. I'm very excited to get started as I've just finished reading a very long story from ff.net. Can't wait to see what you've all been up to here.

 

 

Part Two

 

Chapter 25

The one aspect of Scarlett’s professional life that Sadie hadn’t been able to experience yet was the lumber business. They had briefly stopped at the main lumber yard nearly two weeks before, but there hadn’t been time to really explore it fully. And of course Sadie was eager to visit the mills outside of town, never having been to a working sawmill in her life. So, Monday morning, Scarlett escorted Sadie out to her mill about four miles northeast of town, to the mill managed by Johnnie Gallegher.

Scarlett would quickly realize that she should have known better than to introduce Sadie Grier to her working mills in person, but her pride in her successes greatly curbed her caution. Everyone in 2011, including Sadie, had looked on her with the utmost respect for being a successful businesswoman of the late nineteenth century. And she wasn’t the proprietor of something like a dress shop or a confectionery; she had placed herself squarely in a man’s world and had prospered there. Understandably, Scarlett was eager to show off the fruits of her labor and expected Sadie to again dispense the praise, which was something Scarlett could consume forever and never feel full. But by the end of the day, she would feel as if she hadn’t eaten for weeks.

 

In the years since her attack, Scarlett had chosen to visit the Decatur Road mill earliest in her day so she wouldn’t be caught there when the sun was going down. But truly, the site had given her the chills months before that incident, ever since Johnnie Gallegher had taken it over from Hugh Elsing. It was isolated. It was lonely. It was ominous. Even if the convicts did not interact with her, Scarlett sensed their utter despair. She believed it was best to catch them in the morning after they’d had at least a few hours of sleep; at least then they didn’t seem quite so beaten. Or maybe it was just an illusion brought on by the light and hope of a new day. In any case, she told herself that the workers’ situation had improved, whether it really had or not.

And then there were Johnnie Gallegher and his cook, Rebecca, whose company she would prefer to not share, considering that they had been cheating two parties in this operation out of food and money. Scarlett saw the cook and her manager more often than she would have preferred, but in recent months she had decided to keep a better eye on the swindlers. She had made a point to visit the mill much more frequently now–as in the old days when Mr. Johnson ran her first mill–in order to keep track of her workers and the food and supplies she had provided. During each visit she stepped into the cook shack to count the bags of flour and sugar and cornmeal and coffee and make sure all the meat she had paid for was present or had been properly served to her laborers.

She was on shaky ground; Scarlett knew that Johnnie Gallegher’s patience with her was running thin. He didn’t want interference, he didn’t want questions, and he certainly did not want her presence. Her excuse was that it was her property and she had every right to visit it whenever it pleased her. Well it didn’t please her, but it seemed a necessity. She was no longer resigned to being cheated. Always in the back of her mind now was the reminder that she should probably be keeping her eye out for a new manager and if her path should cross with someone competent _and_ trustworthy, she should pounce because the _cold little bully_ , as Rhett called him, was nearly on the edge of quitting. Oh, if only he hadn’t made her so much money, Scarlett reasoned, Johnnie Gallegher would have been gone long ago.

Scarlett felt much more secure today, riding to the mill through the thick fog with Sadie accompanying her in the warmth of the carriage. At Rhett’s insistence, Isaac had been driving Scarlett to the mills since October, and while she felt safe with the robust Isaac at the reigns, Sadie’s presence somehow provided her with additional security. It was a chilly morning, but in the air there seemed to be the promise of a beautiful day if the clouds should lift. At one point along Decatur Road, Scarlett even chuckled to herself, in rare happy spirits, remembering the last time she and Sadie had ventured into a tree-laden section of Georgia–that being the land around Tara in 2011. It was good that they weren’t visiting the mill in late July when all sorts of insects, arachnids, and arthropods were about. Undoubtedly, they might find some slow-moving ones today, but Scarlett was certain that Sadie would stay clear of any tall brush or overhanging branches.

Yes, it was a promising beginning to the day, and yet as the carriage came to a stop at the camp, a sudden tinge of anxiety claimed Scarlett as Sadie’s eyes settled on the five gaunt men working, up since before dawn, the vapor of their breaths forming puffs around their heads in the morning light. Immediately, Scarlett realized that it might have been a mistake to bring her visitor from the future to this particular mill–a mill that even ashamed her on occasion. She should have only exposed her to Ashley’s mill, where the less productive team of convicts was in slightly better health and spirits. The circular saw was already buzzing loudly, the sound cutting through the walls of the carriage, and Scarlett couldn’t help but feel that it was not only slicing through the Georgia pine but directly into her bright hopes for the day.

Isaac assisted Sadie out of the carriage first, and Scarlett followed as Johnnie Gallegher approached, clearly intrigued by the unfamiliar guest. It was safe to assume she wasn’t a state inspector, but an invited guest of Mrs. Butler, though he approached her with the same agreeable joviality that he used whenever he wanted to make a good impression. Sadie, who towered over Gallegher, was immediately cautious of the little man with a large revolver against his side. She didn’t fear him; she was uncomfortable with what he might do with _it_. After brief introductions were given, Sadie kept silent as Scarlett discussed the week’s business with Gallegher, informing him of the new orders she had acquired late last week. At a distance, but in clear view of the convicts, all five of the workers looked up at Sadie, having caught sight of a new figure, feminine at that, and took advantage of the fact that their handler was otherwise occupied. However, Johnnie Gallegher, noticing a change in the audible rhythm of the work, flashed a threatening glance in their direction just like a cat that had suddenly spotted a vulnerable bird in the nearby grass. The three white and two black men immediately returned their attention to their tasks.

Sadie quietly watched as one man scaled newly arrived logs out behind the large covered shelter under which two of the men were working, while two men worked on sorting the logs by species, size, and end use. The two workers under the shelter worked as a team debarking the logs with the dangerous circular saw. Sadie curled her gloved fingers up to her stomach as if she were in danger of getting her hands too near the blade even though she was standing at least thirty feet away. While the men knew not to fear Johnnie Gallegher’s whip for the duration of the owner’s visit, they still had a quota to meet, and they kept to their normal pace knowing the consequences they’d face for not meeting the overseer’s expectations. It was clear to the convicts that Scarlett Butler did not prefer such treatment, though she also had done nothing to curb it and allowed Johnnie Gallegher to continue to do as he wished once she was out of sight.

After Scarlett dismissed her manager and he returned to the men, she directed Sadie closer to the steam mill, pointing out specific segments to describe the process, her voice competing with the whirring saw and rolling belts. She hoped Sadie’s spirits would brighten once she was able to learn about the workings of a sawmill. Sadie Grier always seemed to love learning about something new; Scarlett could still turn this experience into something positive. With each cheerful explanation of a step in the procedure, Sadie would nod in understanding, but unlike earlier this morning, she was icily quiet; Scarlett knew this wasn’t only because of a discomfort around the machinery, for Sadie’s eyes distractedly focused more on the ill-dressed workers than the actual work. Also, she turned her attention to Johnnie Gallegher and the substandard shacks, eyeing both with suspicion; she plugged her ears to protect them from the noise of the nearby saw as if she hoped to block out not only the noise, but everything before her eyes.

Sadie didn’t like being here, that was clear even to Scarlett. The sooner Isaac could whisk them away the better. Rebecca lingered outside the cook shack; her plump arms crossed in front of her anticipating Mrs. Butler’s standard inspection. But to her surprise, instead of heading in her direction, Scarlett turned back toward the carriage with her guest a step behind. Sadie hadn’t yet made lengthy comment on anything she had observed, so Scarlett hoped to hasten her away as quickly as possible. Perhaps, once the camp was out of sight, it would be out of mind as well.

But now, where to go? Ashley’s mill? The lumber yard? Home? Ashley’s mill would give Scarlett a chance to somewhat redeem herself in Sadie’s eyes if she had not agreed with what she had seen at Gallegher’s, though Ashley’s lack of output was also an embarrassment for Scarlett, if she was to be honest. The lumber yard would cause the least harm, but she was hesitant to adjust their original plans; her pride wouldn’t allow it. If she changed their plans, Sadie would then know that Scarlett was ashamed, and she couldn’t allow that, for she wasn’t entirely ashamed. She was proud of the fact that she had been able to support her immediate and even more distant family in this manner. No, there was no shame in that.

Few words had been spoken on the journey over to Ashley’s mill off of Peachtree Road. Sadie had buried her gloved hands into the soft muff Scarlett had lent her to keep warm, her eyes permanently fixed on the rolling, forested areas to either side of the carriage. Scarlett, uncomfortable with Sadie’s taciturnity, prattled on about any pleasant subject that she thought might break this hesitant, pensive mood. Tara, the Connolly-Jensens, even the new couple, Jennifer Nolan and Sean Daley were topics that leapt from her tongue. Yet, Sadie remained distant with one or two word answers, as if lost in her own thoughts, desperately holding back on a subject neither wanted to discuss. Scarlett’s mouth and forehead eventually scrunched up, and she soon fell mute, frustrated that Sadie couldn’t just forget what she saw like Scarlett, herself, could.

Scarlett’s mood did not improve when they arrived at Ashley’s mill only to discover that Ashley was not at his post. The mill was presently idle with Patrick, Ashley’s young assistant from a nearby farm, left in charge to guard the shackled men, who were warming themselves with coffee. If she wanted to see Mr. Wilkes, Patrick announced, she would be sure to find him at the lumber yard or on his way back from town. Their paths would certainly cross.

“No wonder he doesn’t make any money,” Scarlett thought to herself in exasperation as she and Sadie made their way back to the carriage. “His mill is never in production!”

After Isaac closed the door, Scarlett tugged her gloves on tighter to her fingers and wiggled against the bench seat to find a comfortable position for the uncommunicative three-mile journey south into town. “I wish Sadie would just say something and be done with it!” Scarlett thought along the newly sun-lit road into Atlanta. Silence almost always unnerved Scarlett more than the loudest of censures.

 

“Scarlett!” Ashley exclaimed with a smile as he approached the carriage at the edge of the lumber yard, the sun gleaming off Ashley’s silver gray hair. “Mrs. Hall. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Mr. Wilkes,” Sadie greeted with a slight bow of the head, speaking her first words of the last thirty-five minutes.

“I’m much more surprised to find you here, Ashley,” Scarlett countered in a sweet tone, which she only reserved for him, but this time a miniscule drop of acid dissolved into the comment.

“I’d forgotten to settle on a schedule with Hugh for today, so I came to arrange the hour. I knew we were going to be behind today, so I didn’t want Hugh to send out a team too early.”

“ _And you’ll be even more behind now if Patrick continues to serve those men coffee and biscuits_ ,” Scarlett thought, but did not speak.

“Unfortunately, I just missed Hugh. He’s out delivering Mr. Fowler’s order.”

“If you have time, maybe you’d like to help give a tour of the lumber yard,” Sadie suggested. “It’s my first time actually setting foot on the place.”

“ _No, he doesn’t have time!_ ” Scarlett fumed internally.

Clearly, Sadie wanted a neutral presence around to help ease the unspoken tension between the two _cousins_ , and she and Ashley seemed to have been friendly since their first introduction. Scarlett was just about to helpfully suggest that Ashley leave a message with someone here to pass onto Hugh if he hadn’t already, when he negligently accepted. Must he always _first_ be a gentleman? Scarlett pondered that as Ashley took the lead and led them to the small office in the middle of the lumber yard, forgetting that his role as a gracious gentleman is what had made her love him.

At least Sadie seemed more receptive to Ashley’s guidance across the property–he’d finally proven, after all this time, that he knew the difference between two-by-fours and six-by-eights–and when Hugh Elsing arrived, Ashley introduced the two and Sadie responded with more warmth than she’d had in the last hour. Maybe the evil spell had been broken by the delicate man with a lock of pale brown hair hanging over his forehead. Scarlett thought he seemed like the sort of man that would attract Sadie: the sensitive, tall, clean-shaven type that might have led what Scarlett had learned was referred to as an “indie band”.

But, with apologies, Ashley and Hugh soon broke off so they could discuss their schedules for this day, leaving Scarlett to finish up the tour through the piles of the fresh and fragrant lumber and manage business matters along the way. Ashley’s presence seemed to have cooled Sadie’s internal temperature, for she was more receptive to Scarlett after his exit. Unfortunately, because the strain had seemed to ease, Scarlett, the businesswoman, soon emerged and took over right in front of her guest when she saw a pair of her delivery drivers loading a wagon with the best quality lumber her mills produced. She inquired as to the destination. When she learned it was to be delivered to Henry Neale, she ordered her employees to swap the lumber for a supply from a larger pile one row over; a pile Sadie just so happened to remember had contained a fair amount of knotholes. She didn’t know much about lumber, but anyone could have guessed that it was lower quality compared to these dense and uniform planks.

“Save that for Bill Wadsworth’s order. He’s got a keen eye and we’re in short supply today. Mr. Neale won’t find fault,” Scarlett instructed without thought of the woman standing behind her, Sadie’s mouth agape in disbelief.

Sadie exhaled loudly, shook her head, and turned toward the carriage, not even taking leave of Scarlett or the deliverymen, and began making her way across the yard, destination unknown.

“S-Sad– Brianne!” Scarlett stuttered, nearly making a grave mistake. “Where are you going?”

At Scarlett’s question, Sadie halted in between two aromatic stacks of flooring that stood a head above her and waited for Scarlett to catch up.

“I tried…but I can’t–” Sadie struggled painfully. “I’ve seen enough. As much as I’ve tried today, I can’t– It’s very difficult to remain silent, when…”

“What is it?” Scarlett wondered, forgetting about Sadie’s attitude during their visit to the mills or the conversation she had just had with her delivery workers.

“You and your…your mill business. You’re selling poor quality lumber to people who won’t notice?” she asked, hurt written in her eyes.

Scarlett recoiled at the thought of the scene Sadie just witnessed. Why did it always seem like her actions were the right thing to do in the moment and yet, when seen through someone else’s eyes, Scarlett was forced to see the immorality in them?

“Are you charging Mr. Neale and Mr. Wadsworth the same price?”

In Scarlett’s non-answer, Sadie had her answer.

“No, you’re probably charging Mr. Neale more,” Sadie glumly guessed. “And your labor force? Convicts?” she questioned, as if begging Scarlett to prove her wrong. “Don’t you know this is just slavery by another name?”

“I– I–” Scarlett struggled for a response. By now her justification should have been given by rote since she’d had to defend herself in this decision to nearly everyone but Rhett. But it came back to her.

“They’re convicts! They had no business breaking the law. Don’t they deserve whatever comes to them?”

“Are you serious?” Sadie asked incredulously.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’ve done what I needed to do.”

Scarlett defiantly stared at her accuser. Well, at least she now knew for certain what had been bedeviling Sadie all morning. She clearly was not going to hold back now; Scarlett steeled herself for the onslaught.

“Those men– I’m not saying that none of them haven’t done anything terribly wrong, but… They looked incredibly unhealthy, especially at the first mill. They’re clearly being mistreated. To go against what people might mistakenly think of my beliefs, for some criminals, their experience at your mill might be too good for them. But you’re fooling yourself if you think each one of those men is a rapist or a murderer. I know very well how this worked. Your state needed money and they needed it bad. And you and your fellow business owners needed a cheap, reliable workforce. Tell me, when the state ran out of true, legitimate prisoners to dole out, how did they restock their supply?”

“How should I know?” Scarlett snapped, her eyes darting away as if she was bored by this pointless discussion.

“There are a lot of tenuous laws that have been created–done to make arrests simple and abundant and to restock the cheap supply of labor lost as a result of emancipation.”

“Not all of my convicts are darkies,” Scarlett countered.

“Will you stop saying that word!” Sadie demanded through clenched teeth. “No, the system will wrongfully punish people of all colors at one point or another, just by the law of averages. This is, in fact, an equal opportunity rant, if you can believe it,” said Sadie, finding a brief moment of humor, making fun of her own overly passionate behavior, but it was lost on Scarlett. “But you and I both know which group will be targeted and abused the most by the system here–the most powerless one. Do you think an innocent and powerless person, a person without connections, will get a fair trial here? No, he’ll be brought to a ‘judge’,” Sadie spoke using air quotes, confusing anyone in the lumber yard who saw it, “and be given a fine that is too high for him to pay so he’ll have to work it off. He could have been arrested for just about anything. The man could have just been walking along the railroad tracks, minding his own business, and get arrested for it. Someone he’s never met might claim he owes money. Or he might be a man of color who happened to speak too loudly in the company of white women. There were a lot of bizarre laws passed around this time. Are any of these ringing a bell for you?”

Scarlett didn’t answer because she knew Sadie was correct; colored men speaking loudly in the presence of ladies was not tolerated. That’s just how it was. That was how it had always been. She actually believed arrest was too good for those that had laughed at her after she had visited Rhett in the jail in January of 1866, as she struggled in the muddy streets of Atlanta. She had never forgotten that day or forgiven her tormenters.

“And independent farmers weren’t allowed to sell their goods after dark…you know, when they actually would have time to sell their products. And men better watch their backs if they can’t prove that they’re employed. They’ll be put into the system, too.”

“I don’t have to stand here and listen to this!” Scarlett exclaimed proudly, unable to gather all the information being discharged. Lectures never set well with her and she was absolutely ready to be finished with this one. She didn’t hear the truth; she only heard the criticism. “None of this is my fault if they got arrested. I’m doing nothing illegal. I’m earning a living just like everyone else. Who do you think put those clothes on your back? How do you think I–?”

“I’m very grateful…to my _husband_ for providing for me,” Sadie interrupted, attempting to set Scarlett in the proper cautious frame of mind for any potential witnesses.

Scarlett huffed and glanced around the yard, a few nearby men immediately returning their eyes to their tasks.

“No, you don’t have to stand here and take this from me,” Sadie continued. “But I can’t stay silent in what I believe. Doesn’t it bother you to know that some of those men are being threatened, beaten, and starved just because they might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time? Do you really want to sentence a man to death at your mill just because he might not have been able to prove that he had a job? Is that humane? Is that fair? What I saw at that Johnnie Gallegher’s mill– What if you have innocent men there?”

Scarlett didn’t answer. She had never viewed any of her convicts as innocent. The thought had never even crossed her mind. She’d never before thought of what sort of crimes the prisoners had committed; she only knew that each of them had broken a law. But Sadie had splashed a little color onto Scarlett’s two-tone canvas. Could some of these men have been made prisoners for raising their voices in the presence of ladies? Like most Southern women, Scarlett believed they deserved some sort of punishment, but hadn’t Brent and Stuart Tarleton–and even her father–shouted on countless occasions with women present? Somehow Sadie had shed a flicker of light on this society’s hypocrisy and Scarlett happened to catch a glimpse of it in that flash of illumination. But, no, it was not to be analyzed. Scarlett couldn’t think on the fact that there was a chance that even one of her convicts had had his humanity crushed only because of a petty crime. Somehow, there was now a speck of doubt in her mind. It was suddenly so confusing. No, she couldn’t think about it now.

“This might be worse than slavery, if I have any legitimate right to make that statement. If one of them dies, white or black, what are you out? The state will just provide another prisoner to honor your contract. You haven’t lost a penny and they’re not out anything either. All they have to do is pick up another strong-looking man and bring him up on some flimsy charge. What real power would he have to fight the punishment? At least men and women had some value to their masters when they were owned. And yet, it makes me sick to even make that statement,” Sadie spit out, conflicted. “Do you really want to have a part in this?” she asked as if encouraging Scarlett to take the better path.

Now, Scarlett was fuming. She had heard this lecture one too many times in her life and it snapped a nerve. She felt as if she were being blamed for all the ills of society. Yet another person was questioning her humanity. And this time, that judgment came from someone for whom she had a fair amount of respect. Why was she eternally questioned about her choices? She knew her convict laborers didn’t have the best of situations, but what could she do? They were the most stable source of labor. If she was to have any security, this is how it had to be. There was no other choice.

“You– You’re just like the rest of them!” Scarlett shouted, not caring if the entire lumber yard heard her. “Like Frank! Like Ashley!”

Ashley Wilkes–still in conversation with Hugh Elsing fifty feet away at the lumber office–turned his head when he heard his name, spotting the quarrelers to his left.

“You’re like everyone else! Sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. I’ll run things the way I wish to. Why don’t you all mind your own business?” Scarlett expelled, nearly spilling tears. Was the entire world against her?

“Because we have hearts,” Sadie replied with cold calmness. “It’s good you didn’t stick around to work for me. I think you would have diluted all the products and sold them at full price to my customers.”

Scarlett sucked in the chilly air as if Rhett had provided one of his cool insults.

“How dare you?” Scarlett responded shakily. “I would have let you mind your own business–even if I could have made you more money than you can for yourself–so why won’t you let me tend to mine? You don’t live here. You don’t know what it’s like. You will never understand.” There was nothing else she could think of saying, so she stepped past Sadie and proceeded in the direction of her carriage.

Sadie immediately took steps to follow, as if to apologize, but when something squished beneath her foot, she stepped back, lifted the hem of her skirt, and looked down to find a fresh gift left by a mule.

“Shit! Literally,” Sadie grumbled under her breath, but Scarlett caught her words and turned back to take in the sight.

Following a malicious smirk, Scarlett said, “Serves you right. I should seek out that mule and reward him with shoes of gold. I don’t want _that_ , or _you_ in my carriage. You can walk back to the house for all I care.”

The injured expression displayed on Sadie’s face was what Scarlett had been aiming for and she had struck her target.

“There! I’ve hurt her like she hurt and insulted me,” Scarlett thought in triumph before marching to her carriage. She approached Isaac, her lips exhibiting an arrogant smile. “To the store, Isaac. Mrs. Hall will find her own way home.”

Once inside the private space, once no eyes were on her, Scarlett couldn’t help but allow a few tears to escape her somber green eyes, regretful of her last words to her guest. Sadie was very disappointed in her. The one new friend she’d truly had in ever so long had turned against her, too. Worst of all, she had lost Sadie’s respect and admiration. She had felt the ill sentiment all morning. If the respect was not entirely gone, it was obviously polluted. The loss felt great indeed as Scarlett was driven away from the yard.

 

“Mrs. Hall,” Ashley called as he approached the grumbling woman who was determinedly scraping her shoe against the dirt. When Sadie turned her eyes to him, he caught sight of the built up moisture and Ashley couldn’t remember ever having seen her in such distress during their brief acquaintance. She had always seemed so optimistic and confident. For once, there was a crack in her armor.

Her lips quickly formed a strained smile in an attempt to mask her somber regret.

“Another proud, gallant O’Hara,” Ashley immediately thought with affection as he caught her hiding her emotion for his benefit.

“Mr. Wilkes. So, you see I’ve stepped in it now,” Sadie began with light lyricism, lowering her eyes to the unwelcome situation.

He gave a laughing smile for her words. No, Brianne O’Hara did not share her cousin’s sense of humor. Ashley could picture an irate Scarlett storming off if this had happened to her, without a friendly word for even him–and he knew how hard Scarlett tried to be pleasant when he was around. Ashley had finally accepted that Scarlett shared Mr. O’Hara’s temperament and not her own mother’s. Ashley had assumed that all the O’Hara brothers had been similar, but after meeting Brianne, Ashley questioned that assessment. She was different from Scarlett in many ways.

“Were you able to set up a schedule with Mr. Elsing?” she asked. “I hope Scarlett and I didn’t draw you away with our little tête-à-tête.”

“No. Everything is settled.” Ashley paused, then cautiously continued. “But I am afraid that I did catch my name in the conversation.” He looked down to her feet again and offered his hand to Sadie. “Come. Please let me assist you with that.”

Sadie smiled and placed her hand on his arm, allowing him to guide her safely to the side of the lumber office where there was a barrel of water and a stack of rags.

“Please. Sit,” Ashley requested after brushing off a stool and laying his handkerchief over the seat.

“My, you are considerate!” she commented in near astonishment, not being used to this treatment in her modern life. “The men up north don’t hold a candle to you,” she said while carefully lowering herself to the stool. “Though, I’m sure in the past you never had to clean your own boots, let alone those of a damsel in distress.”

“No, at one time I had a very fortunate life,” he answered wistfully, blankly looking past Sadie. But then, reality struck; he truly had nothing to complain about. He had never cared for wealth, only comfort, and he still had that, or at least as much as he could ever wish for again. “I still am fortunate, for I have Melanie and Beau and a roof over my head, but a lot has changed…and now I must rescue a fair lady even in such a manner.”

Sadie watched as Ashley crouched down and hesitantly drew a dry rag over her soiled shoe.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds,” he added.

“Not at all. I’m grateful for your chivalry. I should not want to figure out how to do this for myself.”

Sadie presented him with a pleasant smile, which he returned before rising to dip a clean rag into the barrel.

“Mr. Wilkes. You alluded to the fact that you were raised to be served by–I assume–slaves for your entire life. Yet, you share my opinion on the evils of convict leasing?”

Ashley returned his eyes to her in surprise. This was the last subject he had expected to be raised.

“That’s why your name was spoken by Scarlett,” Sadie explained as he lowered himself in front of her again. “She said that I was just like you and her second husband. I figured that meant that both of you also disapproved of the convict labor. You see a difference between that and slavery?” she asked with interest.

Ashley lowered his eyes to the ground for a moment before again returning to his task.

“Yes. I do see a difference. Our slaves weren’t miserable. Our family clothed, housed, and fed them sufficiently.”

“Did you ever think to ask them if they were unhappy in the situation they found themselves in?”

“Well,” Ashley thought for a moment, drawing up a long dense woodchip from the ground to continue his work on the grooves on the bottom of Sadie’s shoe. “No, but…I expect I would have observed it.”

“Sometimes we only see what we wish to see,” Sadie suggested. “I’m not accusing your family of anything. You may be correct. Maybe your plantation was one of the most tolerable, but most humans would not be content with enslavement.”

Ashley drew the edge of the woodchip against the heel of Sadie’s shoe.

“I would have freed them all when Father died if the war hadn’t already freed them.”

Sadie long neck straightened with surprise and her expression softened with respect.

“Thank you for saying that,” she responded, then placed her hand on his shoulder sympathetically. “It would have been the right thing to do. But could you have really freed your family’s slaves? How could your life have remained the same after completely changing the way in which your world worked? You have a kind heart, but it wouldn’t have been very practical for the life that you were to live–a life that I think you miss.”

Ashley pulled away and stood quickly as reality struck, taken aback by her touch, and he subtly glanced around the yard searching for witnesses.

“Oh, I forgot where I– I forgot myself,” Sadie said, now pressing her hand to her stomach as she realized her social error. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for–”

“No. Please, it’s not your fault. I know you didn’t intend it in that– But, Atlanta– I’m sure you aren’t aware of how quickly rumors spread about this town,” Ashley explained, fearful of being caught in his second scandal within months of the first. Poor Melanie. Hadn’t she had to defend him enough already? Not only had she denied the rumors about Scarlett, but would she now have to deny them about Scarlett’s cousin, too? “I know you were just being kind, but it might appear…”

“As I said, sometimes people only see what they wish to see. And some wish to see an impropriety where there is none.”

“Yes,” Ashley answered, looking down at Sadie with his gray eyes before returning to their original topic of conversation. “You might be right about our darkies.”

Sadie flinched. Ashley waited.

“That word. I find it offensive. I wish I didn’t have to hear it so often here…or the other words and descriptions that are even worse.”

“Forgive me,” Ashley offered, realizing the sensitivities of this woman. “I’ll try not to use it again in our conversations.”

“Thank you.”

“Our slaves…they weren’t treated as these convicts are treated by the State and by…”

“Scarlett?” Sadie finished for him, realizing he did not want to personally place blame on his old friend and partner. “And Mr. Gallegher?”

Ashley nodded.

“The State doesn’t provide proper uniforms or shoes, especially now when the weather is turning. The prisoners are always cold and I’m unable to do much of anything about that. As for food, whatever supplies Scarlett provides, I serve, but it’s not enough,” Ashley said shamefully. “No, I don’t approve of leasing convicts. The system is open to too many abuses.”

He tossed the soiled rag into a laundering basket and reached for a clean one to wipe his hands.

“Have you encouraged Scarlett to provide more food or make clothing requests to the State?” Sadie asked, rising from the stool and handing Ashley’s handkerchief back to him.

“I have.”

“And she does nothing about it?”

Again, Ashley could not speak against a woman he had known his entire life, but he shook his head in answer. He offered Sadie his arm and she took it before they began walking away from the office.

“I’ve encouraged her to hire free dar– Free men,” he corrected himself. “But…”

“She won’t,” Sadie completed his sentence with irritation. “How long has she leased convicts?”

“Five years,” Ashley answered after he’d subtracted the first six months of his time as manager. Had he really been working in this profession for nearly six years? Sometimes it felt like just yesterday that he had started; and sometimes it felt as if an eternity had passed.

“Five years,” Sadie repeated through an amazed sigh. “So long… And you haven’t convinced her to hire free workers in all this time? She clearly respects you. I would think she would respect your opinion.”

“This is her business,” Ashley reminded. “I don’t have a say.”

“You always have a say,” Sadie encouraged. “And don’t you have part ownership?”

Ashley nodded weakly. The mill had been Scarlett’s charitable gift to him and his family, as if that enticement was all that he needed to choose to set up a life in Atlanta; but he had never wanted a mill. Though Scarlett claimed he had autonomy, when it came to making the crucial decisions, Scarlett always gave the final order. Ashley’s defeated eyes conveyed the truth to Sadie. He did not have the will to fight Scarlett on this anymore, if ever. He was tired. If he had ever had any spirit in the past, it was now gone. These days, he could not face more than the status quo. Sadie returned his look with empathy, as if she could already read and understand him better than Scarlett ever had, and Ashley relaxed in her company.

“Well,” she continued, “you always do have a say whether you believe you’re capable of it right now or not.”

Ashley nodded. His head agreed, but his heart did not.         

“It’s true,” she encouraged after sensing his gloominess. “Right now, even if you’re not where you wish to be, small steps can be taken in order to make the best of your situation–and that of your workers. I briefly observed your mill this morning. I know you’re as fair as you think you can be to those convicts. You’re already doing something brave; you’re standing up to Scarlett, whether you see it or not. You’re–I assume–being unintentionally subversive and standing up for your beliefs as best as you can. There is some power in that. It’s obvious that you’re not doing what Scarlett wants you to do. And before I come across sounding as if I think Scarlett should get her just deserts… I truly want her to succeed in everything she does, but you’re not hurting her very much financially. As far as I can tell, she’s doing very well for herself. I assume she’s generally seen as a respected businesswoman. She has a grander house and grander clothes than anyone else in this town. And she has a husband who will always be able to support her. Scarlett is still exceedingly successful. I just wish she could find a way to succeed without cheating…though I suppose all of her competitors are cheating, too.”

“Unfortunately, that is generally the case,” Ashley replied.

“Economics and the level playing field… The race to the bottom,” Sadie sighed. “I know those men wish they could be anywhere else but at that mill, but at least I believe you are showing them some respect, some humanity. They must know it.”

“They know it too well, I’m afraid.”

Sadie, understanding his meaning, continued, “There must be some balance you can find. Some sort of reward system you can employ. Some way of encouraging them to work toward some goal so that the necessary work still gets done, but you’re not cruelly forcing them like Mr. Gallegher does. Somehow, maybe if you can increase production, there might be enough extra profit to easily pay for new shoes…something like that. An extra layer of clothing? Even prisoners need a personal goal to work toward. Everyone needs an incentive. I hate that Scarlett is supporting this corrupt system. It’s not right,” she firmly declared. “And she’s probably never going to change her mind about it. I think I now know her well enough to know that–with the exception of myself–she’s one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.”

With great effort, Ashley attempted to hold back a grin, but it was impossible, and Sadie caught him out the corner of her eye. He was enjoying Brianne Hall’s intelligent company immensely. Ashley couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a genuine laugh, but it felt as refreshing as an early spring day at Twelve Oaks. She was a smart woman. She might possibly have a wiser business sense than Scarlett, and on top of that, she seemed to have a genuine, uncorrupted heart.

“I doubt any of us can talk her out of this,” Sadie continued. “In my shock and disappointment– I was horrible with her just now. I get upset and I– I never have a graceful way of putting anything,” Sadie lamented. “You saw that she abandoned me?”

“I did.” Ashley stopped their progression near an empty delivery wagon near Marietta Street and stated, “Mrs. Hall, you must allow me to drive you home.”

“Oh, it’s not that far. I’ve regularly walked further distances than that,” Sadie protested. “And if Scarlett knew you were taking more time away from your mill– I’m sure you can imagine how she fumed about what she found this morning.”

“Let her fume,” Ashley said with a calm, newfound courage, taking Sadie’s hand to assist her into the wagon.

“Really, I can–” she began to protest.

“Men may expect you to walk when in the North, but please accept our hospitality when in the South.”

Sadie sighed, hesitant in her resignation.

“I’ll have you know that I– Well, I prefer to take care of myself. But…all right.”

With that she climbed into the borrowed wagon and they traveled the ten long blocks to the Butler mansion as Ashley and Sadie discussed his further options for getting more product out of his mill, the conversation running over even after they had arrived at the destination. Ashley felt more rejuvenated than he had in a long time, hopeful that even one of Mrs. Hall’s suggestions might work.

“I apologize. I’m keeping you from your work even longer now,” said Sadie. “But, please let me know if you need any further help with Scarlett about the mill–though she probably won’t want to hear anything I have to say–ever again. And I probably shouldn’t be involved, anyway,” she reconsidered. “Scarlett’s right; it isn’t any of my business.”

Sadie gathered the strings of her plain reticule together and looped them around her wrist, preparing to disembark.

“Oh, can you give Melanie a message for me?”

“Of course.”

“Tell her if she has time, I’d like to see her this week–before we go to Tara. I promised I’d help her with a concern and I haven’t yet made myself available to her.”

Ashley nodded. Melanie had told him about Mrs. Hall’s strange but generous offer to help Melanie with her physical ailments. He had agreed with Melanie that it wouldn’t hurt anything to visit with Scarlett’s cousin, with whom they had become well acquainted.

“Thank you, Mr. Wilkes, for coming to my rescue and cleaning my shoe. I think it’s almost as good as new,” she said, straightening her leg so the toe of the shoe peeked out from under her skirt.

Ashley was about to alight from the wagon in order to assist Sadie down when the front door to the house sounded and both their eyes were drawn to it.

“Brinn!” called Bonnie, still slightly mispronouncing her cousin’s name. “Uncle Ashley!” She nearly leapt off the front steps before her father caught her under the arms and brought her against his shoulder. Rhett strolled down the path and through the gate with ease, halting next to the carriage block. Both he and Bonnie were dressed in wool coats that came down to their knees.

“Ashley,” he said flatly, nodding slightly in recognition. He removed his hat with his free hand to acknowledge Sadie.

“Rhett,” Ashley returned in an equally unenthusiastic manner, hoping Brianne’s association with Rhett Butler wouldn’t eventually corrupt her, too, as it had her cousin.

Sadie looked between the two men, easily sensing a tension she had not noticed in their previous meetings.

“Well, this is a sight,” Rhett commented, studying the two figures in the mule-drawn wagon. He paused on Ashley. “Our fair cousin departs with Scarlett and returns with you.”

“Mr. Wilkes was kind enough to offer me a ride.”

“And what of Scarlett? Where has my wife run off to?” Rhett asked. There was slight concern in his voice, despite his attempt to sound indifferent.

“She needed to make a stop at the store,” Sadie answered. “And I had it in my mind to walk back here from the lumber yard…for a little air and exercise,” she added to conceal news of the argument. “But Mr. Wilkes thought I should not walk so far.”

“He is quite the gentleman,” observed Rhett; the compliment sounding nearly like an insult.

“Daddy!” Bonnie said, struggling as she reached her arms for the wagon. “I want to ride with Brinn and Uncle Ashley.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Wilkes doesn’t have any more time for riding. He needs to get back to the mill,” Sadie explained to Bonnie.

“Maybe another time, Bonnie,” Ashley humored her, not revealing that this was a borrowed wagon, officially belonging to her very own mother.

She nodded her head and leaned back into her father’s comfortable embrace, her excitement diminished.

“Thank you, again, Mr. Wilkes,” Sadie said, offering him an encouraging smile before rising from the hard bench.

Again, Ashley was prepared to alight, but Rhett quickly secured his hat to his head and offered Sadie his hand for assistance. She hesitantly placed her gloved hand in his. Once she stepped down from the carriage block, she again turned to Ashley before his departure.

“I’ll be sure to give Melanie your message.”

“Thank you,” Sadie said, giving him a wave in goodbye.

“Yes…quite the gentleman,” Rhett said distantly as he watched Ashley drive away.

“What?” Sadie asked, turning back toward Rhett.

“You like Ashley Wilkes, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sadie answered with slight suspicion as she studied Rhett’s smug expression. “He’s a kind man,” she added, as if she felt the need to defend Ashley.

“Tell me. Where is your husband staying in Prague?”

“Why?” she asked cautiously.

“He might appreciate some friendly words of advice from a man–such as myself–who is very familiar with such a situation. Mr. Hall might wish to return home sooner than he had planned if he was to learn about Ashley Wilkes’ new _friendship_ with you.”

“His new _what_?” Sadie was dumbfounded as she decoded Rhett’s implication.

“Brinn,” Bonnie interrupted before Rhett could add to his inference. The toddler reached out her hand for Sadie.

“I must say! This is a surprising subject to broach. Are you as generous with all women’s husbands? And do you feel that we women must be saved from platonic friendships with the opposite sex? I can’t fancy you as one to jump to such absurd conclusions. Have you ever thought of taking up creative writing? I can see a novel in your future.”

Then, ignoring Rhett’s chuckle, Sadie held her gloved hand out for Bonnie and Bonnie set her hand in Sadie’s.

“It’s nice to see you, Miss Bonnie,” said Sadie to signal the termination of the previous subject. “You’re dressed nice and warm. What an adorable blue coat.”

“Walk,” Bonnie replied excitedly. “Daddy ‘n me.”

“Walk? You’re going out for a walk?” Sadie pieced together. “It’s turned into a lovely day now that the fog is gone. It might even be too warm for this coat,” she said, tugging on Bonnie’s hem.

“When I saw the sun light the street outside of the bank, I knew I couldn’t be tied to my desk for the remainder of the afternoon. I thought Bonnie and I might take a stroll,” Rhett explained, the cautionary tone from a moment before wiped away with his genial voice.

It was then that a ghostly movement in one of the windows above the roof of the front porch distracted Sadie’s attention. Her chin lifted and she shaded her eyes with her hand, desperately wishing that she had her prescription sunglasses with her. Once her eyes focused, she realized it had been the white of Ella’s pinafore, and she could clearly see Ella pressing her forehead against the window, looking down to the three figures longingly.

“Might Ella and I join you?” she asked without removing her eyes from the second floor of the house.

By the time of Sadie’s question, Rhett had also noticed Ella in the window and his expression soured at a realization as if he was experiencing the regretful scenario of the forgotten child. It was the feeling that might have arisen had he taken the two girls downtown and as he returned home with Bonnie, he would realize that he’d accidentally left Ella behind to fend for herself amidst the crowds.

“Yes,” Rhett replied. “Yes, we’d like that, wouldn’t we, Bonnie?”

Bonnie nodded, more for her cousin Brianne’s company than for Ella’s.

“All right. If you’ll allow me a few minutes to–”

“We’ll wait for you on the porch,” Rhett offered, letting Sadie to pass through the gate first before he followed with a squealing and giggling Bonnie as Rhett swung, teased, and tickled her.

Sadie smiled as she entered the house with the laughter streaming inside with her. Pork greeted her and took her gloves and coat before she rushed up the stairs to find Ella still positioned at the windows at the end of the hall.

“There you are, Miss Ella Fitzgerald.”

“My name isn’t Fitzgerald,” she argued with a giggle, “it’s Kennedy.”

“Oh, is it? I keep getting you mixed up with other fine, talented people,” Sadie teased. “How about you and I go for a walk with your father and sister?”

“Me?” Ella asked, eager but unsure. Her stepfather never invited her on his walks with Bonnie.

“Of course, you. Do you want to go?”

 “Oh, yes!” she answered, her spine lengthening in anticipation.

“How about you have someone–”

“Miss Ella, now what you doin’ out here in th’ hall an’ botherin’ yo’ cousin?” came Mammy’s voice from the doorway to the servant staircase. “Ain’t Prissy keepin’ an eye on you?”

“Ada. Just the person I wanted to see.”

Mammy frowned but did not protest the designation. She had relented, allowing Scarlett’s houseguest to call her by her given name, but the experience had been somewhat unsettling. She had not been called that name for over fifty years, and each time she heard it, she was struck by youthful memories–good and bad–from long before the Robillard girls had been born.

“Ella and I are going out for a walk with Bonnie and Mr. Butler. I need a few moments before we go. Could you make sure Ella has her coat and mittens and bonnet, and all her… _needs_ settled before we depart? I don’t know how long we’ll be out.”

“Yes’m,” Mammy replied, thinking it good to get the energetic Ella out of the house for a while to distract her overactive mind. And without the children in the house, Mammy could take a break from her supervision of Prissy. Mammy had to admit that the young nurse was showing improvement. Of course, Mammy believed it was all due to her expert training as the Mammy-in-chief, but a respite from all that this late morning would be very welcome.

 

“Ready?” Sadie asked when she met up with Ella at the vestibule.

Ella nodded enthusiastically, before patting a mitten to the wavy, wiry hair hanging down from the back of her bonnet in order to smooth it, picking up that habit from her mother.

Sadie pulled the door open. “After you.”

“Here she is!” Rhett exclaimed when Ella stepped onto the porch, lifting her up easily and giving her a kiss on the cheek before setting her back on her feet; his overly-affectionate greeting in response to his realization that he had been leaving Ella out of this father-daughter ritual. Scarlett had trusted him enough to ask that he raise Ella should the girl lose her mother. He ought to begin treating her as if she truly were his daughter. Rhett took both Ella and Bonnie’s hands in his and assisted them down the steps. Sadie followed the trio down the walk.

When they reached the sidewalk, Sadie asked, “Where will our journey take us?”

“Along Peachtree,” Rhett answered as Ella pulled her hand out of his and moved to Sadie’s side.

Ella held up her hand, requesting that her cousin take it, just as she had seen Bonnie and Rhett join hands for so many walks in the last year.

“OK, then,” Sadie answered hesitantly, unaccustomed to the details associated with taking a child for a walk, but she accepted Ella’s left hand.

“You’re funny,” Ella giggled at the statement.

They headed north toward Cain, the site of the recently vacant governor’s mansion coming up on the opposite side of the road. The girls were sandwiched between the two adults, and now that there were two children present on a walk, the girls initially conversed with each other, pointing out the afternoon’s sights on the soon-to-be quieter thoroughfare once dinnertime hit. The adults had been momentarily left out of the conversation, so Rhett cleared his throat and spoke.

“My apologies for earlier assumptions, Brianne. Mr. Wilkes has been known to capture more than one woman’s affection in his lifetime and it seemed to me that it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for him to capture yours. He supposedly has his charms, though God only knows what they might be.”

Rhett’s very clear opinion about this man caused Sadie to turn her head to examine his expression and see if it matched his words.

“I was only concerned for your heart’s safety and that of your husband,” Rhett continued.

“Oh, were you?” she asked skeptically, struggling to keep her steps short for Ella. “That’s very generous, but neither you nor my husband has anything to worry about. There has not been any untoward behavior on Mr. Wilkes’ part–or mine.”

“Please understand me. I suspected nothing on your part, per se, but Mr. Wilkes has a certain talent for bringing women under his spell.”

“A regular Casanova, eh?” Sadie chuckled. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe; although, many women do appreciate the quiet, sensitive, principled type.”

Rhett’s cynical glance informed her of his disagreement with her description of Ashley Wilkes.

“I thank you for your warning, but there’s nothing to worry about. However, if what you say is true, I would certainly hope that Mr. Wilkes’ various affairs of the heart had concluded by the time of his marriage. Otherwise, poor–”

“Miss Melly,” Rhett finished for her as their eyes locked in common opinion.

A moment later, Sadie spoke, “And poor Scarlett,” in reference to Rhett’s own infidelity.

Rhett’s dark eyes revealed his obvious confusion over her puzzling words, assuming they were still connected to Ashley Wilkes and not to the truth of his own unfaithful actions. It would have been very unlikely that Scarlett would have informed her cousin about her intimate connection to Ashley Wilkes.

“Captain Butler!” came a voice, from the walk of a nearby house, saving Sadie from clarifying her rash statement in front of the children. “Why, you have _two_ girls with you today! Good afternoon, Bonnie. Good afternoon, Ella,” Kitty Bonnell greeted as she met them at the sidewalk. “It is turning out to be such a lovely day, isn’t it? I decided to take some air before dinner,” she concluded directly to Sadie.

“Mrs. Bonnell, may I present to you, our cousin, Mrs. Brianne Hall?”

“Mrs. Hall. I thought I had heard that Scarlett had a cousin visiting, though have I been mistaken? Captain Butler is your cousin?”

“No,” Sadie answered, looking between Rhett and Mrs. Bonnell as if she had again missed a reference. “My full name is Brianne _O’Hara_ Hall.”

“Oh, an O’Hara! That might be why I was confused. It’s only that I expected you to be more like Scarlett. In appearance, she very much takes after her mother–a Robillard–and I think I somehow assumed you were part of that family. I attended school with dear Ellen in Savannah.”

“You knew Scarlett’s mother?” Sadie asked with interest.

“Yes. There was never a lovelier girl than Ellen Robillard.”

“I’m sorry I never met her. You were raised in Savannah, then?”

Mrs. Bonnell nodded her head.

“Did you know my father? He was raised in Savannah, too. Brian O’Hara? He’s Scarlett’s first cousin.”

“No, I’m afraid our paths did not cross. If my ears aren’t deceiving me, I don’t believe you were raised in Savannah?”

“No. Chicago, Illinois. My father settled there over forty years ago.”

“Oh, and what a tragedy that happened there,” Mrs. Bonnell said with sympathy.

“Yes. Thankfully all my family is safe, but there were so many others left homeless. The rebuilding has already begun and I should hope that the city will rise stronger than ever before.”

“Is it your first time here, to Atlanta?”

“Yes. I’ve visited Savannah many times– I was just there visiting my grandparents, James and Aileen O’Hara. Did you know them?”

“Yes…” Mrs. Bonnell realized. “Yes, I remember meeting them a time or two. Perhaps that’s why I thought you somehow looked familiar. You might take after your grandmother?”

Sadie smiled, dimpling as if embarrassed. “I hear that often,” she said. “My grandparents were speaking of Scarlett and her family here,” she continued, raising Ella’s hand slightly. “And I thought it might be nice to meet them while I was traveling in this part of the country. It’s my first real foray into the inland of Georgia and I’m so glad that I decided to visit. It’s been a gift to spend time with this part of my family,” she answered with sincerity. “It’s also been nice for a change of scenery.”

“And Hall is your husband’s name?”

“Yes, Matthew Hall. He is quite a distance away in the eastern part of Europe right now for his profession–he’s a musician–but he should be returning to Chicago in early February.”

“A musician?” Mrs. Bonnell asked with heightened interest.

“Yes, he plays the viola and instructs students in Chicago.” 

Mrs. Bonnell was clearly impressed, having music education in common with this Mr. Hall.

“Being nearly half way across the world, you must miss him terribly.”

“I do,” Sadie answered with a nod.

“Daddy!” Bonnie begged, pulling at his arm. She had grown bored with the conversation when she was getting none of the attention. This new cousin had taken all the regular interest away from her.

“Oh, I’m keeping you from your stroll,” Mrs. Bonnell apologized. “And I must have some dinner before my next student arrives. It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Hall. I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you, too.”

“Mrs. Bonnell, I hope we can soon discuss setting up lessons for Ella. She shouldn’t have anyone but the very best instructor.”

Ella looked up after hearing her stepfather’s words, full of the charm he stockpiled for the Old Guard.

“For me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to learn the piano?”

“Oh, yes!” Ella beamed.

“Of course, Captain Butler. I’ll easily make room for Miss Ella Kennedy.”

“Daddy!” Bonnie protested after not only losing attention to Brianne, but now to Ella, as well. She leaned the entire weight of her body back in order to drag him away.

“I’ll call on you soon, Mrs. Bonnell. Thank you,” Rhett responded with an apologetic, but amused, smile.

“I want to learn piano,” Bonnie declared as they continued up Peachtree Street. Rhett explained to her that she could take lessons when she was a little older. Rhett turned to Sadie and quietly added, “Whenever Bonnie has gotten her hands near the keyboard she sends a cacophonous reverberation throughout the house. The last time she did it, it sent Scarlett into such a fit that I thought she was going to shove the piano right out through the front window so she’d never have to hear it again.”

Sadie laughed without reserve.

“That sounds like Scarlett.”

“So you’ve been on the receiving end of such hysterics, I presume?”

“Yes, in fact, even as most recently as today.”

“Ah, so that’s why you decided to spend the remainder of your morning apart.”

“Well, she made that choice,” Sadie clarified.

“Might I inquire about what led to this tragic separation?”

“Hmm…” Sadie considered, sizing him up with her eyes. “I think not.”

“And why is that?”

“I have a strong suspicion that you would not agree with my opinion on the said matter.”

“No?”

“No.” After a pause, she explained, “You’ve been a cordial host, and unfortunately, I can’t seem to keep my personal views in check without causing an insult to you or your wife, so I’d rather not discuss it. I’d prefer to keep your good opinion for the remainder of my visit–if I haven’t lost the entirety of it, already.”

Their eyes briefly met and each fought a smile, recollecting Sadie’s now seemingly humorous suppertime assault.

Sadie returned her eyes to the path ahead, continuing, “And I hope I can soon return to friendly terms with Scarlett, as well. But, I think you and Scarlett generally have very similar opinions–which is why I think you both must agree on this particular subject. And when you don’t agree, I bet you get your way more often than not. Am I correct?”

“You’d have to ask for Scarlett’s view on that,” Rhett answered without answering.

“What about her hair?”

Rhett looked at Sadie curiously.

“After I had complimented Scarlett on the style of her hair, she told me that you had ordered her not to cut bangs. That’s a little heavy-handed, isn’t it? It’s her hair, isn’t it? Not yours.”

The corner of Rhett’s mouth fell and he quietly released a sigh. Did Brianne Hall now know of all their marital disagreements? Her own husband must have a terribly fun time with a wife like her.

“And she did make some comment the other day about not being able to frequently invite her whist friends to the house. Did you have something to do with that, as well?”

“Ah, Scarlett’s _friends_ … She told me how your pairing had handily defeated your opponents. The best partner she’s ever had, I believe, is what Scarlett named you.”

“I tend to have beginner’s luck,” Sadie interjected. “It’s been years since I’ve played.”

“How quickly she’s forgotten about my expert partnership…” Rhett lamented in a comic tone. “Tell me, Mrs. Hall, what was your own opinion of Scarlett’s friends?”

“My, you do know how to turn the tables on a discussion, don’t you!” Sadie commented, before returning her attention to the red brick path in front of them. “Her friends… Her friends… Well…”

“Come now, don’t be shy,” Rhett encouraged. “I only expect the absolute truth from you. I will not judge your opinion, for I suspect it might match my own.”

Sadie flashed a look of suspicion to Rhett, but no ulterior motive showed in his expression.

“I don’t know. They seemed friendly enough. Scarlett seemed to have a good rapport with them, but… I suppose I’d say that they did not seem very sincere or genuine. They were overly complimentary to me, and…well, I never like that. There was a falseness about them, as if their words would never really match their deeds. I’m not sure if they seemed very trustworthy,” Sadie concluded quietly.

“I thank you for your honesty. So, we do agree,” Rhett said in response. “We see things as they really are.”

“Yet, Scarlett likes to spend time with them,” Sadie commented with puzzlement.

“It satisfies her need to be with people,” Rhett answered simply, but astutely. “She loves to be flattered and admired above all else, and they’re all very good at that–as you, yourself, can attest. She’d rather befriend people she doesn’t like than be alone–unlike me…or you, I suspect. And I doubt she takes the time to wonder about it. Oh, I’m sure she has a good time when in their company, but if she would only see who they really are–”

Just then, a carriage pulled up in front of Pittypat Hamilton’s home, halting Rhett’s words. Uncle Peter quickly stepped down onto the sidewalk to assist the occupants of the carriage.

“That’s Aunt Pitty,” said Ella, pointing out the silver-haired woman for her cousin.

Once Pittypat Hamilton reached the sidewalk, she caught sight of the family walking toward her. India Wilkes followed her out of the carriage.

“Good day, Miss Pitty,” Rhett said sweeping his hat off with a charming bow. “Miss India.”

Despite the war that had been waged between the Scarlett-Melanie faction and the India faction, Rhett remained on neutral ground with both sides. Pittypat and India had been cut from family functions, but Rhett still respectfully spoke with them as if nothing had happened, much to Scarlett’s displeasure.

“Oh, dear, it’s the little ones,” Pitty said in reaction to spotting the girls. “Captain Butler, are you sure it’s not too cold for the girls?”

“It’s not too cold!” Bonnie protested robustly in defense of her father.

“Oh, dear,” Pitty reacted, taken aback by Bonnie’s boldness.

“Miss Pitty. Miss India. May I present to you, our O’Hara cousin, Mrs. Hall.”

“Brianne O’Hara Hall. Scarlett and I are first cousins, once removed. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sadie said with a curtsey and a bow of her head, the coppery threads in her brown hair glowing as the sunlight streamed over them, the fire in great contrast to the pale India Wilkes before her. “Pity, did he say?”

“Yes,” Pittypat answered, color coming to her cool cheeks at Mrs. Hall’s confusion. “Pittypat-er-well, it’s only a nickname, but I was christened Sarah Jane Hamilton.”

“Oh,” Sadie reacted with a pleased smile. “ _In the eyes of Sarahjane, I see the happy times again_.”

Pittypat’s cheeks grew redder, giggling nervously at the little tune.

“I apologize. It’s only that I’ve never met a Sarah Jane before, and yet I know of a song that mentions one,” added Sadie.

“Mrs. Hall,” said Rhett. “Miss Pitty–Miss Sarah Jane Hamilton–is the aunt of Charles and Melanie Hamilton and raised them here in this home.”

“Oh!” she said with interest, looking to the red-bricked house.

“And Miss India Wilkes is Ashley Wilkes’ sister.”

“Ah, I know your brother well. _India_ , what an interesting name! I like it very much.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hall,” India replied coolly after learning of this woman’s connection to Scarlett, ignoring the genuineness in Sadie’s voice.

“Are you visiting for long?” Pittypat inquired.

“Yes, my plans are to stay through the New Year. My husband returns home in February, so I hope to return to Chicago before he arrives.”

“How nice to have a long visit. And how are you, Ella,” Pittypat asked, genuinely interested. Ella had spent her first year and a half in the Hamilton home and Pittypat always felt affection for her.

“I am well, Aunt Pitty,” Ella answered graciously.

“It’s very good to see you,” Pittypat said. “And you, too, Bonnie.”

“I’m hungry,” Bonnie responded, soon looking up to her father with her bright blue eyes for assurance that she would soon be fed.

“Oh, dear…” Pittypat began, wondering if she shouldn’t invite the group inside for some dinner, not that she had much to even serve India and herself, now, without Scarlett’s financial assistance. But, no, Scarlett wouldn’t like her family to dine in the home of Pittypat Hamilton. Though, there was not much that Scarlett did like…

“It appears that this will be the furthest our adventure takes us today,” Rhett said in response, squeezing Bonnie to him reassuringly. “I’m sure dinner will be waiting on our return. It was a pleasure to see you both,” he said, sweeping off his hat again. “I’m sorry our visit was so brief.”    

Rhett prepared to take Bonnie’s right hand in his when the women departed for the house, but instead she offered her left to Brianne.

“You would like to trade?” Sadie asked the younger girl, surprised by the offer.

Bonnie nodded her head.

“Ella, is it all right if you walk next to your father on the way back?” Sadie gently asked.

Ella nodded her head less enthusiastically than her sister. Did Bonnie always have to take what she wanted? Although, if she could have distilled her thoughts, Ella would have realized that what she wanted was for Rhett to love her equally to Bonnie and now she had a chance to have him all to herself. Once her hand was enveloped by Rhett’s secure warmth, she was fully content and her concerns about losing Brianne’s company were immediately forgotten.

 

Scarlett had arrived for dinner, surprised to find that she was the only member of the family present. Wade wasn’t yet home from school and neither of her daughters nor her husband was to be found. She assumed that Sadie had returned to the house, but there was no sign of her either. It wasn’t until after she’d inquired as to their whereabouts did she hear: “They out walkin’.”

Oh, out walking, as if nothing at all had happened that day! She had wanted to come home and find Sadie shedding tears in her bed, and instead, Sadie decided to go on a friendly, family walk? Scarlett had not hurt Sadie like she had wished. And now, she wished she had done so more than ever.

After Scarlett was driven away from the lumber yard, her conscience was struck by a bump in the road, and she requested that Isaac turn back so they could collect Miss Brianne. She couldn’t leave her there all alone with no one to help her in this unfamiliar territory. But once the carriage pulled up to the lumber yard, Scarlett caught sight of Ashley crouching down in front of Sadie, as if he were proposing to her, and he had taken her foot into his hands as if he was playing the prince to Sadie’s Cinderella. Ashley’s hands belonged to her, Scarlett, not Sadie! And then…then when Sadie placed her hand on his shoulder with so much familiarity, it took all of Scarlett’s strength not to scream with mad jealousy and designate Sadie as a whore. Poor Ashley, thankfully, seemed as shocked as she, Scarlett, had been. Unfortunately, he did not walk away from Sadie Grier at that moment. Instead, he walked with her, arm-in-arm, across the lumber yard! Scarlett ordered Isaac to return to the driver’s seat, but did not yet ask him to drive on until she watched Ashley drive off with Sadie, the pair completely unaware of her presence. So, her charming _cousin_ had charmed Ashley Wilkes? Scarlett was going to be certain that it would never happen again.

After pacing the sitting room for ten minutes, she heard the bubbly voices of her daughters coming up the sidewalk and she glanced out the window to see what anyone might identify as a picture-perfect family. Rhett and Sadie couldn’t have seemed happier in Scarlett’s jealously-biased eyes. And did Rhett have to pause and take Sadie’s arm to assist her up the steps as she held on to Scarlett’s dearest daughter’s hand? Miss Independent certainly seemed to enjoy playing the weak, defenseless female when in handsome men’s company!

Scarlett quickly took position in the hall and composed herself into a perfect motherly stance to wait for the group’s entrance. Bonnie and Ella were the first to crowd in through the door, followed by Sadie, and then Rhett.

“Mother!” Bonnie called before Scarlett swept her up in her arms and kissed her on the forehead with more affection than she normally granted.

“Did you have a nice walk?”

Bonnie nodded and followed that up with, “I’m hungry,” resting her head against Scarlett’s shoulder.

“Dinner’s ready,” Scarlett assured. “We just have to wait for your brother.”

From below, Ella spoke, “Mother, Uncle Rhett says I can have piano lessons with…with Mrs. Bonnell.”

“Oh, did he?” she asked, directing the question toward Rhett alone.

“I want piano, too,” Bonnie chimed in.

“Can’t I?” Ella asked, fearful that her mother would decide differently. She always seemed to want to decide differently from Uncle Rhett.

“If Rhett thinks you should, then you shall,” Scarlett said magnanimously, attempting to play the loving mother and dutiful wife. She briefly hugged Ella to her with her free arm and then set Bonnie down to the floor. “You two go on up to Prissy and have her get you cleaned up for dinner. Ella, take your sister’s hand.”

“Yes, Mother,” the girls said in unison.

For the first time, Scarlett allowed her eyes to set on Sadie and happened to catch Rhett assisting her out of her coat.

“ _That better be the last thing he does assist her out of!_ ” Scarlett thought crossly.

After Sadie removed her bonnet, Scarlett immediately requested, “Brianne, I must speak with you. Now.” Scarlett’s tone froze both Sadie and Rhett on the spot. Rhett had heard this determination and wrath in Scarlett’s voice before, and attempted to assist.

“Can’t it wait until after dinner, Scarlett?”

“No, it can’t,” she quickly replied, growing more frustrated with Rhett’s defense of this woman. “Besides, Wade isn’t home yet so we’ll have to wait for him.” Scarlett stepped toward the sitting room and insisted, “Brianne.”

Sadie silently looked up to Rhett for some answers or clues as to what was in store for her, but Rhett’s eyes lowered as if he wouldn’t be of any assistance. Scarlett wouldn’t be asking for separate bedrooms in this instance, but clearly it was something just as urgent.

“Please,” Scarlett added firmly. “It won’t take but a minute or two.”

“All right,” Sadie answered with a nod. She laid her gloves down on the console table in the vestibule and confidently stepped away from Rhett’s side, passing Scarlett on her way into the sitting room.

Scarlett’s eyes were locked with Rhett’s, sending to him a puzzling, accusatory glare.

“I sense you have a lecture prepared for your bosom cousin, my dear? Though, I can’t think of what the subject might be, except–” Rhett’s eyes lit up and he quietly continued. “Ah, yes… Might you suspect that she’s taken a liking to your favorite gentleman?”

Scarlett’s eyes darkened, blazing at the guess, and Rhett grew ever more confident.

“I admit, I have suspected the same. I saw them arriving here together this morning. Perhaps you, too, caught a glimpse of them en route. Your concerns might be justified. How it must sting, for I think he’s taken a liking to her as well.”

Scarlett exhaled with a huff, now fully riled up as only Rhett could intentionally do, and bolted into the sitting room, closing the room off to the hall and Rhett in a millisecond.

He advanced toward the stairs, passing the room with a mischievous glance, and whistled merrily on his way up the steps.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I think it's been nearly 6 months since I posted last! I feel bad about the fact that I haven't even read any fanfiction since August or so. I miss it, but just don't have the time. I guess I can either try to write or read, but not both! Thanks for those sticking with me despite my infrequent postings. I might try a different formatting in order to save time. I'll try to post it and if it looks bad, I'll fix it later.

Part Two

 

Chapter 26

 

            “Hey,” Sadie spoke the moment Scarlett turned away from the door, anticipating the subject of this meeting. “I’m sorry about this morning. I handled everything very poorly. I was upset, but I had no right to–”

            “Sadie,” Scarlett interrupted. “I want you to stop seeing Ashley Wilkes.”

            “ –say– Wait, what?” she asked, briefly shaking her head as if she needed to reposition her brain in order to understand where this conversation had turned.

            “You can’t see Ashley anymore.”

            Sadie looked to both sides of her as if she were searching for a hidden camera from some prank show before suspiciously responding, “I didn’t know that I was _seeing_ him–if I understand your meaning correctly. What’s gotten into you two today? Was this a joint intervention?” she chuckled. “What have we done to make you both think–?”

            “I saw you and Ashley at the lumber yard,” Scarlett continued, ignoring the odd questions preceding the last. “You were making a scene, throwing yourself at him like some common hussy,” Scarlett said bravely in her advance, steeling herself, unsure of what sort of reaction those words would elicit.

            “Hussy?” Sadie repeated as her head drew back and her eyes grew wide. What followed was not the reaction Scarlett had expected. Tickled laughter whispered from Sadie’s lips. “You’re joking, right? You must be joking. That’s one thing no one has ever accused me of. I’m not the most forward of women when it comes to men. Introvert. Remember?” she said, pointing her index finger back at herself.

            “Like hell you aren’t forward!” Scarlett shot back, her jealousy continuing to roll at full boil, nearly exploding from her observations being laughed at. Her reaction easily wiped the smile off Sadie’s face and replaced it with confusion. “I saw you flirting with Rhett, too, just now.”

            “Wait, whoa,” Sadie protested, holding her palms up to Scarlett, but Scarlett didn’t halt her tirade.

            “How dare you put your hand on Ashley,” she said shakily, a strand of her silky hair slipping out from a pin.

            Any other woman of her acquaintance could have touched Ashley, and Scarlett wouldn’t have felt such a threat, but with Sadie… Something about her was different. Perhaps it was her unmistakable modernity that intrigued these men. Perhaps it was her curiosity that made them feel important. Perhaps it was her intelligence, which women of Scarlett’s time were less likely to display if they preferred to keep up the charade that men were much wiser than women. Most men of this time wouldn’t want a woman like Sadie. But Rhett and Ashley were different; and Scarlett wasn’t familiar enough with this newcomer to really know what she would do should she capture their interest.

            Sadie got along very well with Rhett on almost all occasions, except for her hormone-loyalty-ethically-induced suppertime lecture nearly two weeks prior, and the same things seemed to amuse them. And with Ashley? Well, during his recent meetings with _Brianne Hall_ , he had somehow come alive again in her presence–or at least that is what Scarlett had disconcertedly observed. She had grown jealous over their immediate connection for it seemed as if Sadie already understood Ashley after three or four encounters better than she, Scarlett, ever could in a lifetime; that was what was most difficult to bear.

            “Do you think he’ll fall in love with you?” Scarlett asked haughtily, gripping her skirt’s fabric tightly in her clutches. “He’ll only ever love–” Her face froze mid-sentence, realizing that her anger had made her words very reckless. She had nearly exposed Ashley’s place in her heart and hers in his. “Why, the entire town will be talking about my philandering cousin,” Scarlett added to disguise the unspoken conclusion of her last sentence, but it was too late.

            Sadie drew in a slow breath as her mind processed this new information. Nodding her head to signal her full understanding of Scarlett’s sentiments, Sadie calmly said, “A philandering hussy, huh? I suppose it might surprise you to know, then, that I could use one hand to count the men I’ve been with and still have fingers to spare. But I suppose there must be something in the air here in eighteen seventy-one that makes me _ravenous_ for all these gentlemen who just happen to be in your life,” Sadie continued facetiously. “I’m just lying in wait for the right opportunity to lure them into my bedroom. I mean, Matt’s not here. He doesn’t even exist at this time, so it wouldn’t be like cheating, would it?”

            Scarlett was shocked; never had she heard such ideas spoken by a woman about the men in her life. Sarcasm had clearly dominated Sadie’s voice and words, but what was she trying to say? Did she mean what she said, or did she mean the opposite? Somehow, in her state, Scarlett was having trouble making sense of the truth. Embarrassment instantly flooded through her; had she been mistaken? Or was Sadie trying to throw her off the scent?

            And damn Rhett for his ability to provide the water and nutrients for the seed that had been planted in her mind at the sight of Ashley and Sadie together. It had germinated so quickly that it led to Scarlett’s shoddy handling of the situation. How could she ever face this woman again after today’s events?

            “So, Ashley Wilkes will only ever love…?” Sadie began calmly, tilting her head in examination of Scarlett’s guilty expression. Her probing eyes nearly caused Scarlett to back away, hoping to conceal the truth that always seemed to be written on her face–at least according to Rhett. “Unfortunately, something tells me that you weren’t going to say _Melanie_.” Her eyes widened with confidence at Scarlett’s wince. “Those were the words of a jealous woman. I think you were going to say, ‘He’ll only ever love _me_.’ I’m right, aren’t I?”

            Scarlett’s eyes flashed up once to gauge Sadie’s expression, but then she looked away in the direction of the double doors leading to the veranda, desiring to slip through them and escape to avoid this awkwardness and the discovery of her old secret.

            “It’s all coming together, now…” Sadie spoke reflectively before lowering herself down to a chair as if exhausted by the thought.

            When Scarlett next looked in her direction, Sadie’s eyes were directed downward, her fingers tightly dug into the carvings of the armrests. She appeared as Scarlett did when adding a long column of numbers in her head. She had guessed the truth, but what did she mean by it all _coming together_? Why wasn’t she saying anything? Scarlett stood motionless as if fearful to stir the air that had seemed to fix them at this neutral place in time.

            But then Sadie spoke again, her attention focused on the carpet before her.

            “He’s _been known to capture more than one woman’s affection in his lifetime_ … Not just Melanie’s, but yours, too. He _has a talent for bringing women under his spell_ …” Sadie said, briefly returning her eyes to Scarlett. “ _Advice from a man who is very familiar with such a situation_ … Your husband. Rumors _quickly spread about this town_ … About you and Ashley Wilkes?”

            What was Sadie saying? What was the meaning of these cryptic statements? Scarlett was nearly forgetting to breathe as she stood there, the heat of her nerves causing her to sweat in this comfortable, but cool room. Growing frustrated with herself for not being able to come up with a defense, Scarlett loudly sighed to release the tension in her chest. It caused Sadie to look up at her, but her expression was not accusatory, it was downcast.

            “How long has this been going on?”

            “How…how long has what been going on?” Scarlett answered with a question, hoping to continue in this manner for eternity so she wouldn’t have to actually admit the truth.

            “How long have you and Ashley Wilkes been–? Are you having an affair or…?” Sadie couldn’t continue; there was a strange ill look about her.

            “An affair?” Scarlett repeated, distressed about the term. The word seemed so dirty, so wrong. And there had been nothing wrong about her love for Ashley. It had been pure. It had been beautiful. “How can you think such an awful thing?”

            “It’s not true? Could you have such passion for him otherwise?”

            “No, it’s not true! An affair? I would never–” started Scarlett, but she couldn’t press on. With her throat suddenly dry, words would not come. Hadn’t she nearly begged Ashley to run away with her when the Wilkeses lived with her at Tara? Hadn’t she told Ashley to forget Melanie and Beau and take her to Mexico? An affair? It seemed as if she had been capable of it at the time, but now the thought of forcing Ashley to leave Melanie and Beau behind seemed the most heartless and selfish of actions, and somehow, just plain wrong. And now? Now she was married to Rhett and…

            “Why does it bother you, then, that another woman might want your husband when it’s now fairly clear to see where your deepest loyalties lie?”

            “What?” Scarlett asked, finding her voice again.

            “Why should it bother you if another woman is involved with your husband?”

            “I don’t understand you. He’s my husband,” Scarlett said, only presenting a fact.

            “I haven’t yet witnessed you having such passion for your husband. It’s rather minor in comparison to your feelings for Ashley Wilkes, now that I think of it… He was like an afterthought,” said Sadie, just realizing this surprising observation. “You can’t have both of them, you know.”

            Scarlett stood silent, dumbfounded. Only her fingers were in motion scratching against her plaid skirt.

            “You grew up with Ashley Wilkes, right? You probably have felt this way about him for almost your entire adult life. That’s why he’ll _only_ ever love you, right? You were first loves? You must have had him before Melanie did and you lost him to her–at least officially. That’s why you called her a fool,” Sadie guessed after making the connection to Scarlett’s statements of almost two weeks ago. “She loves you and is blind to all of this going on behind her back.” Sadie shook her head in disappointment and quietly recited, “ _Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene…with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green…_ ”

            “What?”

            “Have you refused to give Ashley up in all this time? Has he failed to give you up?”

            Scarlett’s voice hitched before she spoke.

            “He had to marry Melly,” said Scarlett, using the only thing she could think of to defend her pride. “Their families had arranged it.”

            “Isn’t he a man of free will? Don’t you think he made the choice he ultimately wanted to make?”

            Scarlett attempted to justify Ashley’s decision, “He was– He was a–” but couldn’t allow the word _afraid_ pass her lips. Regrettably, it was the first word to come to mind. “He’s an honorable man,” Scarlett finally strung together.

            “Melanie and Ashley Wilkes seem pretty sweet together,” Sadie observed. “And I think it’s very possible that a couple can find love after an arranged marriage. To see the way she looks at him… Melanie seems to favor him above anyone else–except for maybe you. I think there’s definite love on both sides. His affection for her does not ring false to me.”

            “But he– Oh,” Scarlett growled, deciding she didn’t have to justify Ashley’s feelings or hers for that matter. What Sadie was saying just wasn’t true! “I refuse to discuss this with you. It’s none of your concern,” said Scarlett as she turned her back to the still-seated Sadie, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why you care, anyway.”

            Scarlett would have difficulty arguing Sadie’s point, for she too saw that Melanie and Ashley were sometimes _sweet_ together. But, well…of course Ashley had found it necessary to hide his true–and stronger–feelings for Scarlett, hadn’t he? Their love wasn’t meant for public consumption–though the public certainly had had their fill this year, hadn’t they?

            Sadie slowly got up from the chair; Scarlett caught her image rise in the mirror above the mantelpiece. A voice layered with disappointment soon followed.

            “Well, I would argue that you’ve made it my concern with your accusations today, but you’re right. I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble lately for pursuing your life’s mysteries. I shouldn’t have pulled back the curtain so far. I, too, think it best that this discussion is at its end. I’m terrified of what else I might learn.”

            Sadie then turned in the direction of the hall. Scarlett foolishly spun around to speak once more.

            “You won’t pursue Rhett or Ashley anymore?” asked Scarlett, immediately pounding clenched fingers to her lips for stupidly reviving the subject once more. Why couldn’t she let this go when Sadie had been so generous as to step away from this conversation and save her from further embarrassment?

            “Are you serious?” Sadie incredulously exclaimed, marching back to face Scarlett near the fireplace, her eyes wide, her hands forming fists at her sides.

            Scarlett held her position even in the wake of Sadie’s intense presence. Even in her self-induced embarrassment, she could not wilt.

            Sadie took a deep breath and quietly exhaled, “This is so fucked up.” She lifted her chin revealing the intense frustration in her hurt eyes.

            “Like I said, you can’t have them both.”

            “You would dare go after–?” said a shocked Scarlett, chills scurrying up her arms. What did Sadie mean by that? Was she to pursue Rhett or Ashley if Scarlett made an official choice of one of them? The honest truth was right in front of her, written on Sadie’s face, but yet, she still felt the need to fight, to defend what was hers, to make it clear that both men were off-limits. “You couldn’t stand Rhett. You’d hate him for things that he’s done. He’s killed. He speaks words that I know you don’t like,” Scarlett rambled to tarnish Sadie’s view of her husband. “And Ashley. Why, he was in the Klan!” she said, attempting to turn Sadie off of Ashley Wilkes for good. Even though that was technically the truth, she knew Ashley never had believed in it.

            Those words seemed to do the trick. Sadie’s expression soured. She subtly shook her head in disbelief. The news clearly did not make sense to her. After a moment of pause, Sadie repeated a previously stated fact with more vigor, “You _can’t_ have them both. If some woman out there, someone like me, were to take an interest in your husband, why should you care?”

            Scarlett didn’t answer; she only stared, her jaw tight, her eyes angry, her mind perplexed.

            “You never wanted him, did you?” Sadie asked tentatively. “And he knows it, too, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s with somebody else; that never made any sense to me until now. You’ve remained attached to your first love even after he’s officially chosen someone else over you. Are you waiting until he’s somehow free again? Good luck with that. The idea of a lifetime of waiting for someone who really didn’t want me doesn’t sound very appealing.”

            Scarlett stood frozen, her mouth agape, unsure how to respond. Waiting for Ashley? She didn’t have to wait for him. She had him already–in a way–she reasoned. She had him; she’d always had him, hadn’t she?

            “It appears that you’re done with your husband, and I’m done with this conversation,” Sadie announced.

            At those words, she marched toward the hall and as she reached for a door pull, there was quick knock before the doors slid open with Rhett behind them, causing Sadie to step back with a deep gasp and bring her hand to her chest. He quickly noted Brianne Hall’s flushed cheeks and the loose strands of hair around Scarlett’s shoulders. Were these the signs of an intense row he may or may not have instigated? He presented both women with a bow and a devilish grin.

            “Please, pardon the interruption, but Wade has just arrived. If you’ll be so kind as to join us in the dining room.”

            “Thank you,” Sadie answered with a respectful bow of her head. “But I’m afraid–” she swallowed with difficulty, “I might have lost my appetite.” She stepped next to him in the doorway and as an afterthought, turned back to Scarlett. “Oh, and Scarlett?”

            Scarlett looked up to Sadie with all the intensity and pride she could muster. But, oh, how it irked her to see the two of them standing so near to each other again!

            “At no time have I wanted either one of them,” Sadie disclosed with great clarity. “And I never will.” She turned her attention to Rhett and said, “Please, excuse me.”

            With that, she was gone with a swish of her skirt, leaving Scarlett again standing speechless. Oh, how she wanted to scream! She wanted to scream at Sadie for somehow fooling her into thinking that she was prepared to steal one or both of the men in her life, whether it had been intentional or not. She wanted to scream at herself for being so fooled, for being so passionately jealous of the woman when Sadie had obviously not been a threat. And she wanted to scream at Rhett for setting the wheels in motion, turning her suspicion into a sort of truth she felt confident latching on to. Well, Rhett was right here; the perfectly convenient target.

            “Trouble in paradise, my dear?” Rhett spoke with faux concern before an accidental grin curved his lips.

            Scarlett glowered. Why had she felt the odd desire to somehow fight for this man with nearly as much intensity as she supplied for Ashley? It was Ashley that mattered, not Rhett. Yes, why _should_ she care if another woman wanted her husband? Why should she care if someone else wanted this man who was nothing but a thorn in her side?

            As much as she wished to present a poised and unaffected self to Rhett, as if his prodding hadn’t sent her to the lions as he had hoped, a death stare felt so much better. Well, Sadie was welcome to him–even if she didn’t want him.

            “Oh, shut up!” Scarlett exclaimed through gritted teeth before stomping past him and into the hall without giving him another glance.

            “Mother! Look what I–” Wade began as he proudly approached her from the vestibule, holding up a completed arithmetic exercise to her.

            “Not now, Wade!” Scarlett shouted irritably, deciding to forgo dinner and take to her room. Only there could she lick her wounds and draw down the pain of her humiliation. She lifted her skirts and rushed up the steps, her right hand carefully hovering over the banister. A moment later, the entire household heard the slam of her bedroom door.

            Wade stood immobile, his sheet of paper pressed to his chest after being flattened by his mother’s force.

            “What’s that you’ve got there, son?” Rhett asked once he drew his eyes from the upper hall.

            Wade did not lift his chin at the question, still stunned by the minor assault.

            “Let me have a look at it,” Rhett requested, drawing the boy to his side. “I must apologize for your mother. I played a small trick on her and you just happened to have been caught in the wake. She isn’t angry with you. Now, show me what you were about to show her.”

            Was it true? Was Mother not upset with him? Wade was comforted by Rhett’s explanation. Mother had always been set off by his stepfather’s words and actions, though nothing like this had happened in well over a month.

            Wade peeled the paper away from the jacket of his school uniform and handed it to Rhett for study, leaning into his stepfather’s arm, which circled around his shoulders.

            “ _Highest mark in the class_ ,” Rhett read, the phrase written at the top of the page. “You really did this?” he questioned in order to draw Wade out.

            Wade nodded.

            “Yes, sir. Remember, you helped me learn this?” Wade said, pointing to the most challenging question that included simple fractions.

            “You learned well, son,” Rhett said with a surprised hint of pride, patting Wade’s shoulder. His chest vibrated deeply with a chuckle. “It appears that the majority of the exercises involved dollars and cents. Could you possibly be turning out to be your mother’s son, after all?” he teased. “She’ll be very proud of you, my boy. We’ll show her after she’s calmed, all right?”

            Wade nodded and gave Rhett a brief hug for his words and support before being escorted into the dining room to join his already-seated sisters, who were encouraged by their father to express their congratulations to their brother for his admirable work in mathematics. A moment ago, the boy had lost his appetite to a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but just as quickly, his hunger had returned thanks to his stepfather’s kindness.

           

            After dinner, Wade climbed the steps hoping to catch his mother in a better mood, but as he bravely stood before her closed door, his nerves got the best of him and he backed away. It was easy to imagine what his mother’s reaction would be to any knock on her door right now. Her anger had probably not yet subsided. Yes, it would be much wiser to speak with her when Rhett was at his side. Instead, he strolled back to the staircase that led to the ballroom. There were a few minutes remaining before he needed to return to school, and he wanted nothing more than a little solitude.

            When he reached the ballroom, he began heading in the direction of the south tower, but caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Along the set of windows facing Peachtree Street, his cousin Brianne had settled herself along the lengthy cushioned bench. Her back was leaning against a south wall, her shoes were left abandoned on the floor, and her hands were folded and clasped around her bent knees, her stocking feet pressed into the cushion.

            It was clear she had not noticed his arrival, for she did not stir. Instead, she traded her gaze between the street below and out toward the horizon on this cloudless afternoon, deeply inside her own head. Wade watched her for a minute, sensing some sort of melancholy surrounding her. He wondered if maybe she was homesick and missing her family. She, like his mother, had not taken dinner with the family today. Rhett had explained that their cousin had also been caught in the middle of Scarlett’s storm and had been unable to join them. Had his mother raised her voice to Brianne, too?  

            Wade knew only too well what it felt like to receive cross words from his mother. Often it would seem as if he were a burden or an inconvenience to her, as if it would have been better for her had he not existed. But somehow he thought that she still must love him in some way. Wade wasn’t sure exactly why he had the intuition, but it was there, and these sentiments had seemed to become more of a reality since his mother’s illness. Since they’d returned from Tara, she had occasionally given him kisses on his forehead, caresses to his back, and actual smiles of affection. Because of these small changes, her harsh response to him this afternoon had been all the more upsetting. Recently, his defenses had been lowered further than they had ever been since he was a baby.

            Brianne was new to their world and would not have been prepared for something like this. As friendly as she and his mother had been, she had not been warned to build up these necessary fortifications. Until now, she had probably not known the extent of his mother’s temper. She must have been missing home and those that loved her. There was no one here to comfort her, like his Aunt Melly or Uncle Rhett could comfort him. When his aunt and stepfather were unavailable, Wade often found comfort up here in the towers and alcoves off the ballroom. Maybe his cousin had realized the healing peace of the space, too, away from the loud arguments and silent wars.

            But, still, Wade wished there had been a person to provide Brianne with cheer. Her husband was far away, her grandparents in Savannah, and her parents and sisters in the north. Yet… No, Brianne wasn’t without family here. He, his sisters, and his mother were all her family, too. Perhaps Ella, Bonnie, or even he, himself, could try and brighten her day when today’s sunshine couldn’t. Wade didn’t have much faith in Ella or Bonnie understanding Brianne’s struggles, but he knew what it was like to face Scarlett O’Hara’s temper.

            Making just a slight bending curve to the sheet of paper in his hands, he produced a sound loud enough to distract Brianne, but not too loud as to frighten her like he had sometimes done to his mother in the past by dropping things onto the floor to gain her attention. Despite his care, Sadie immediately rotated her head to the right in surprise, catching Wade in full view.

            “Oh,” she sighed with relief, “it’s you.” Sadie pulled her knees closer to her chest and sat upright, seeming as if she were preparing to take her leave. “This is your space, isn’t it? I’m sorry for intruding.”

            Wade hurried over to her after watching Sadie’s legs swing over the bench and her feet hover over her shoes, hoping that he wasn’t the one to make her flee if she wished to stay.

            “No. It’s– You can stay.”

            “Are you sure?”

            Wade nodded insistently.

            “I must return to school, soon, anyway.”

            “What have you got there?” Sadie asked, pointing to the sheet of paper clutched in Wade’s hands.

            Wade didn’t answer, but just outstretched his arms and held the paper before Sadie’s eyes. She adjusted her eyeglasses and took the exercise from him. After a minute of perusing the text, she gave Wade a bright smile, and he wondered if this was all it took to cheer her up.

            “Perfect score. Very nice. You must have worked very hard for this.”

            Embarrassed, Wade shrugged his shoulders before taking a little credit for the work with a nod of the head, his brown curls springing with the movement.

            “Uncle Rhett helped me learn some of it,” he added.

            “Do you like arithmetic?”

            “Sometimes.”

            “It was always my favorite subject in school,” Sadie revealed. “That and history. I studied mathematics for years. It was a good subject for someone like me that always wishes for one right answer to everything,” she said before returning the paper to Wade, a wistful curve playing on her lips. “Congratulations. Hard work pays off, doesn’t it?”

            Wade nodded and climbed up on the bench to take a seat next to his cousin. He turned his head toward the window and glanced out for only a second.

            “What were you looking at?” he asked.

            “Outside?”

            Wade nodded.

            “Oh, everything, I suppose… Or nothing…”

            “Do you miss home?”

            “Sometimes.”

            “We’re your family, too,” Wade stated generously. “Can you be homesick when you’re with family?”

            “I don’t know. I suppose you can. You’ve always been with family, haven’t you?”

            Wade nodded.

            “And have you ever been homesick?”

            “Um,” Wade thought for a moment, considering the question. “I sometimes miss Atlanta when I’m at Tara.”

            “And does anything make it better?”

            It hadn’t been long ago that Wade had been at Tara with his mother and sister, but apparently it had been long enough.

            “I don’t remember,” he answered truthfully.

            “I remember a time when my parents took me to my grandparents’ home for a summer visit and then they left me there along with my cousin for another week. I was terribly homesick when they left even though my favorite cousin and my grandparents were with me, because I missed my parents. But, after a few days, by the end of the visit, I wasn’t feeling sad anymore because I had a good time. I didn’t even want to go home when it was time.”

            “Maybe you’ll begin to like staying with us. Maybe you won’t be sad here, anymore, either,” Wade reasoned.

            “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Sadie spoke with a cynical sigh influenced by the day’s events.

            Wade easily picked up on the emotion.

            “Is Mother angry with you, too?” he asked, peeking at her out the corner of his eye, unsure if he should have mentioned this.

            Sadie dropped her gaze to her lap and began adjusting her skirt, smoothing and spreading it out distractedly, eventually settling her clasped hands into the fabric.

            “Yes. She is,” Sadie finally answered. Turning concerned eyes onto Wade, she continued, “But I hope you don’t mean that she’s angry with you, too. I hope I didn’t–”

            “Uncle Rhett says she’s angry with him, not me. He said you might have been caught in…in the middle of it, too.”

            “Yes, dead center,” Sadie said with a firm nod.

            In silence, Wade looked up at his calm, but melancholy cousin, trying to understand her adult emotions.

            “I tried to show her this before dinner,” Wade spoke, again holding out his mathematics exercise, “but she didn’t want to see it and she went to her room.”

            “Was it just you, your father, and your sisters at lunch–I mean, dinner?”

            Wade nodded.

            “Hmm,” she sighed. “I guess your mother and I will be very hungry at supper, then.”

            Wade again nodded.

            “I’m sorry I ruined your happy news.”

            Wade let his eyes fall to his lap when he quietly said, “You didn’t,” not wanting to show Brianne how hurt he had been by his mother’s rejection. Rhett said it hadn’t been his fault, but he didn’t want Brianne to take the blame for it either.

            “You know, she loves you very much,” Sadie reassured, but Wade did not move from his position, thinking he had dreamt those words. “Do you know that she told me that she would love you forever?”

            Wade’s head snapped up, looking to Sadie with wide, hopeful eyes as if a new discovery was before him. Those words meant something. Those words had come from his mother’s mouth?

            It had been true. Scarlett had spoken the phrase to several people during her stay in 2011: _“I’ll love Wade forever for protecting this house.”_ Just because Sadie had left off the conclusion of the sentence did not make the statement false.

            “Did– Did she really?” Wade asked, finally finding his voice.

            “She really did. I swear it,” said Sadie, holding her hand up as if taking an oath.

            Wade hopped off the cushion and took a few steps forward, a couple back, and a few more to the side, as if his body did not know what to do with this information. His chaotic motions provided Sadie with the biggest grin he had ever seen on her face and at the sight he planted his feet before her to admire the evidence of success.

            “Some of us have trouble finding those words. Especially if we’re shy or feel a need to protect ourselves,” Sadie explained. “And sometimes we just don’t think those words are necessary. Your mother doesn’t say it often, I’m sure.”

            Wade shook his head in answer as he tried to understand Brianne’s explanation. He didn’t think his mother was a shy woman. And his mother was the strongest person he knew.

            “Sometimes it’s easier to tell someone else rather than the person that we really should say it to.”

            “You seem brave,” Wade observed. “Are you afraid to say it?”

            “Yes, I am.”

            Wade’s eyes widened, skeptical, questioning.

            “I’m also from a Nordic–er–Northern European culture. My mother is German,” Sadie stated on behalf of Brianne O’Hara, though she did share a portion of that ancestry. “We’re all a bit reserved, a bit stoic. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard my mother say those words.”

            Wade stared with empathy but did not speak. He wasn’t sure if this was the truth or if she was just saying this to soothe him.

            “But it doesn’t matter much because I _know_ she loves me and my sister…ers,” Sadie quickly pluralized, again for Brianne O’Hara. “Those are just words, but almost one-hundred percent of the time, she shows us she loves us by caring for us, giving us her time and help whenever we need it. I know how much she cares.”

            “But it would be nice to hear,” added Wade.

            “Yes, it’s nice to hear sometimes,” Sadie agreed.

            “I love Mother so much!” exclaimed Wade, as if taking the last statement as an invitation to speak his heart…even if it was to someone other than his mother. He could understand what Brianne meant. It was easier to tell something like this to his cousin or Aunt Melly or Mammy rather than let his mother know of the truth for he didn’t think she wanted to hear it. Perhaps his mother didn’t think he needed to hear it from her.

            “Good,” answered Sadie, smiling even as moisture was building up in her eyes from this seemingly illuminating moment. “I’m glad to know you have such affection for each other. You’ve been through a lot together, you and your mother, and you’ve always stuck by each other’s side, haven’t you?”

            Wade nodded before stepping up to Brianne and courageously giving her a hug, pressing his cheek against her firm shoulder. There was such a sudden feeling of love in his heart and if he didn’t share it, he knew he would burst. Sadie tensed at the awkward moment, but Wade didn’t notice, and she eventually gave him a squeeze, then gentle pats to his back and head of curls before drawing back to separate herself from him.

            Wade held his head proudly, bravely continuing to meet Brianne’s eyes, but his cheeks were red with embarrassment. He rarely shared his heart, and most of the time only with his Aunt Melly. But, his cousin had somehow seen how important his mother had been to him throughout his life. And she made him realize that perhaps he had been important to his mother over the years of their struggles, too. He hadn’t thought so before, seeing himself only as a nuisance, but maybe he, in some way, had been a comfort to his mother, too–even if she hadn’t acknowledged it. Despite the fact that she had always been much braver than he was, Wade had the desire to be her protector. He wanted nothing more than to see his mother safe and secure, for safety and security were things she had seemed to lack for much of his life.

            As he continued to stare, he realized how special his cousin Brianne had been. She had been the conduit for his mother’s message of love, and now he had returned the sentiments through her. It felt as if he had told his mother of his love for her himself.

            “Are you really a Yankee?” Wade asked skeptically, confused as to how he could like this woman so much if she came from the land of the enemy.

            “A Yankee? A person from the northern states?”

            Wade nodded.

            “I guess I am, if you must put such a label to me, though I’d prefer to say that I’m an American.”

            “Then, why are you so nice?” he asked, resting his hands on Sadie’s knee.

            Taken aback, Sadie lightly chuckled, realizing the extent of a northerner’s reputation here.

            “I suppose for your entire life it’s been _us against them_ ,” she said with quiet understanding. “You were born into a war between two regions of this country–and I was not. That’s all you’ve ever known. While I certainly can’t say that I’m one hundred percent kind, I hope you can see that not all of us–not even most of us–are the enemy. I truly believe there are more good people in the world than bad, no matter where you look.”

            “The Yankee soldiers weren’t good,” Wade commented, looking down to his hands, one positioned upon the other.

            Sadie sighed, recalling Wade Hamilton’s story of his frightening encounter at Tara with Union soldiers.

            “I think… I think those soldiers that you met were not always a very good representation of us. It was war after all. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing to be hungry and to be separated from one’s family and to be a witness to friends being killed. Being a part of a war can damage one’s mind. It can lead to anger and resentment and terrible pain. All of those experiences can make people vengeful, selfish, and uncaring,” Sadie tried to explain. “I suppose I shouldn’t be making excuses for them, but I think war can do things to people–even people that had generally been good. You’re young now, but I know you’ll understand all of this better someday.”

            Wade nodded, but didn’t raise his eyes. He stared at the garnet ring on Brianne’s hand, the stones such a deep red, they almost looked black–black like the color of his mother’s hair. Even now, he understood a little better. The one person in his life that had changed the most during the war, he thought, must have been his mother. No, she had never been loving, not like Aunt Melly, but she had once been bright, hopeful, and happy; and she had known how to smile. Wade somehow remembered–and missed–her youthful smile that she sometimes displayed during the early part of the war, untouched by the heartache that was to follow. Out of the war had grown her harsh words, her violent actions, her irritability, her impatience, and her fear. Yes, war could change a person–even the person that you loved most dearly.

            “Or maybe the soldiers you met were just nasty rotten crooks, no matter what,” Sadie conceded, bringing Wade out of his thoughts, hoping to make him smile again.

            He looked up and his lips began to curve at Brianne’s good-natured attempt when Mammy’s voice filled the stairwell and poured into the ballroom.

            “Master Wade! Ain’t you left for school yet? You be late!”

            “Coming, Mammy!” Wade called.

            When he looked back at his cousin, Wade’s eyes were smiling.

            “Thank you, Brianne. I guess I like Yankees a little better now,” he said before leaning into her for another quick hug. Her cheek had barely grazed his hair when he dashed away with a _goodbye_ and disappeared down the stairs, not wishing to be reprimanded by Mammy twice.

            To Sadie’s left remained Wade’s arithmetic exercise. Later, she would place it on the desk near his bed, but at the moment she adjusted her bustle so she could return to her relaxed position along the cushioned bench. As she placed her feet before her, she took up the paper and laid it against her skirt that angled up to her knees, then rested the back of her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

 

*              *              *

 

            The silence that Sadie had found in the ballroom continued on throughout the week between she and Scarlett. Neither woman had truly wished to cease interaction with the other, but after all that had been revealed, neither one was quite sure how to proceed with the relationship. Beyond the necessities, Scarlett and Sadie avoided each other as much as possible.

            Much of Scarlett’s remoteness was born of embarrassment. Another fair portion sprung from pride and disappointment. Already, Sadie did not approve of Scarlett’s business practices, but now she also knew most of Scarlett’s poorly-kept secrets about the true love in her life. That subject had not been met with approval, either, though Scarlett couldn’t quite understand why Sadie should care so much. Apparently, Sadie, a woman who swore and had lived in sin with more than one man, had been a high-ranking member of the morality police when it came to Scarlett. Yet, Scarlett wavered between anger at this potential hypocrite and shame that perhaps Sadie had been correct in her judgments.

            When Sadie arrived here, she had nothing but praise for her host. She had admired the house, Scarlett’s children, Scarlett’s store; she had even admired Rhett. Now, much of that had been tarnished with the knowledge of convict labor and various forms of infidelity on both sides of the marriage. The woman that Sadie had clearly looked up to at the start of her visit had now fallen from grace and Scarlett did not like this situation at all.

            If there had been any comfort for Scarlett, it was that it appeared that Sadie was not faring any better. If she truly held the upper hand, then Sadie had chosen not to use it. She kindly refrained from pursuing any unpleasant communication with Scarlett, immediately recognizing and honoring Scarlett’s wish for some distance. Scarlett could read Sadie’s discomfort, which she had been unable to mask with much success. Something about her withdrawing demeanor reminded Scarlett of Wade after he’d received a reprimand from his mother. Wade tended to keep his distance from Scarlett after being disciplined and Sadie was now doing the same, even if it seemed to pain her to do so. Without the ability to interact with Scarlett, there was no relief from being Mrs. Brianne Hall nearly one hundred percent of the time. Not only had she lost Scarlett’s company, she had also lost the one person who knew who she really was.

            Rhett and the children still interacted with Sadie, though everyone but perhaps Bonnie could sense the tension between the two women of the house. The pair had always sat together on the sofa after supper, but since the incident, Scarlett had chosen to occupy a chair as far away from the sofa as possible, sitting quietly with a magazine, while either Ella or Bonnie’s hair occupied Sadie’s hands as she weaved elaborate braids with the ginger waves or black curls. Wade often sat near her and they would have discussions. On one of the nights his cousin Brianne asked him what he imagined the future would bring in one hundred years. Scarlett subtly listened in and was impressed that some of Wade’s ideas were very close to a future reality. What she had experienced in 2011 was nothing she could ever have imagined, but it appeared that Wade Hamilton had inherited some creativity from one of his parents.

            Scarlett couldn’t help but wonder about Rhett’s true part in this conflict. At times she was sure he had been at fault for the fracture in her friendship. If he hadn’t riled her up so immediately beforehand, she might have handled the entire situation differently. Scarlett suspected after Rhett’s well-timed entrance into the sitting room that day that he had hoped to witness a battle. And now, she didn’t think he wished for a cessation of the standstill. But why would he want her to argue with Sadie? There was no reason other than for his twisted amusement.

            Despite Scarlett’s distance, Rhett continued to engage with Sadie on the same level as before. He did not carefully tiptoe about the two women as Wade, Ella, and the servants had in recent days. However, Scarlett sensed a change in Sadie’s manner with him. She had cooled her friendliness. She had slightly withdrawn into herself. She was less likely to initiate contact with Rhett Butler as if to prove to Scarlett, or herself, that she had not been flirting.

            One evening, when Sadie and the children were exploring images of cities from around the world on the dual viewer stereopticon, Rhett approached the group, and instead of remaining, Sadie gave up her chair to him and retired to her room leaving him with the children. This behavior was becoming more regular these days and Scarlett felt guilt over Sadie’s early departures.

            Looking back, believing in Sadie’s self-defensive words, Scarlett now knew that she had been wrong to make such accusations. What she had seen as flirting was really just curious interest in one of the subjects Sadie examined in modern times. Sadie Grier had wanted to know Rhett Butler, not _know_ him. There had never been anything improper between the two. They had only interacted as any sociable family members would. But when Scarlett had felt the threat of losing Ashley, she had somehow extended it to a fear of losing Rhett, since Sadie had seemed to find common ground with both men.

            Still, Scarlett couldn’t yet humble herself to apologize for her outburst and when Sadie received an invitation from Melanie to visit the Ivy Street house for what was to be a sort of physical therapy session on Thursday, Scarlett declined her part of the invitation. Scarlett knew Melanie would have been much more comfortable having her by her side, but Scarlett wasn’t quite ready to let Monday’s incident go and she didn’t need Melanie to grow curious over the awkward distance between the _cousins_. So, Sadie made her way on foot, alone, the five blocks from the Butler mansion to the little Wilkes home.

            Scarlett was watching Sadie proceed down Ellis Street from her bedroom window when Rhett commented from her doorway, “I’m surprised that you’re allowing her to visit without a chaperone.”

            Scarlett looked over her shoulder but did not respond. She was still angry with Rhett, as well, and had been nearly as silent with him this week. It might be true that she was more frustrated with him than anyone else, including Sadie. In Scarlett’s mind, Rhett was the one who had muddled everything up between Scarlett and her new friend. He had been the cause of that awkward conversation in the sitting room, when Scarlett wasn’t able to protect herself from her own temper. Rhett seemed to have taken pleasure in it and never failed to remind her of the false romantic connection between Sadie and Ashley, or tease Scarlett about the situation in general. Plain and simple, she was tired of it. She was determined not to add fuel to the fire.

            “What if the venerable Mr. Wilkes is present? Are you not afraid of a renewal of affections?”

            “Oh, go away,” Scarlett replied tiredly, returning her eyes to the window; Sadie had disappeared from view.

            “I would think you should want to be present to distract him.” Rhett then chuckled amusedly, entering the room, uninvited. Scarlett could feel him standing a few feet behind her. “I wouldn’t mind being present, myself, witnessing Ashley Wilkes squirm as he’s surrounded by his three admirers. I wonder, now, which fair lady would capture the majority of his attention today? You appear to believe that you have very strong competition living right here in this house.”

            “You’re wrong,” Scarlett spoke confidently to the cloudy world outside her window. She closed her eyes, wishing Rhett would fully vanish at this moment and find his entire self in 2011. If the split of modern-day Sadie remaining in that year had known what Rhett was doing, she would give him a piece of her mind for Scarlett, as only Sadie could. Scarlett didn’t have the stamina for it today.

            Why was he having so much fun with this? Why did he not let this go? He was back to his old, cruel, teasing self, it seemed. Instead of kindness or distance, which he had presented arbitrarily in the last several months, he was back to how Scarlett had always known him. Why he should again rub the subject of Ashley Wilkes in her face at every opportunity, Scarlett didn’t know, but it had grown old years ago. If only she hadn’t shown him her cards and revealed her vulnerability that morning when he, Sadie, and the girls returned from their walk. Questioning him on this would be futile; Rhett never had been straight with her and he never would be.

            Scarlett quickly turned and maneuvered her way around him without so much as a glance, retrieved her bonnet and reticule from the vanity, and said, “Isaac has the carriage ready. I need to get to the mills,” before exiting her bedroom, leaving Rhett surprised at her uncharacteristic mature, reserved response. As she descended the stairs, she couldn’t help but think that it would be nice if _both_ Rhett and Ashley might be transported to another time, away from here. Yes, she could do quite well without either one of them. They could both go to hell–or 2011–for all she cared.


End file.
